“AFTER I BRANDED MY KID SISTER, MY PARENTS SUSPECTED SOMETHING WAS WRONG,” SAYS THE BEAUTY.
In the 1800s, there was a figure in the Wild West that produced both shudders and smiles when talked about. His name was “Wild” Willie Feener. While fellow outlaws Jessie James, The Younger Brothers and Sam Bass seemed to court publicity; Willie killed people quietly and efficiently for good sums of money, one of the first hit men in America. Some say he had so many notches in his belt that he had to use suspenders once he hit the age of 25.
Willie was well-liked by everyone but his victims. He went on to bank and train robbing and making rude noises in public. Later, he ran cattle herds, became a U.S. Marshal and was about to run for president when he was assassinated in D.C. in a violent snowball attack.
“For the encore, I use a whip.”
“I can still feel those snowballs,” says the buxom blonde, leaning over the table for emphasis. “Most were slushy but a couple were solid ice. When I was heading for the ground, I thought, ‘Well this bites.’”
The speaker is “Wild” Wanda Spitzer, a gun-slinging stripper in her mid-twenties who claims to be the reincarnation of “Wild” Willie Feener. Her stripper’s outfit is cowboy-themed, replete with holster and six-guns.
“People love it when I pull out my lariat,” she reveals. “For the encore, I use a whip.”
Wanda’s relationship with Willie began as a child. “He was in my dreams all the time. I saw his whole life story. I felt his whole life story. It was like Willie and I were the same person. I hadn’t even seen a TV western back then, yet I had all this knowledge. I was, like, four years old when I branded my kid sister. My parents suspected something was wrong with me.”
“Spitting through my teeth turns off a lot of guys.”
“Before long, I was hogtying the Irish Setter, making lariats out of my father’s neckties and spitting between my teeth. As I grew older, I researched Willie. I needed proof that he existed. Boy, did I find it.”
Wanda says that her feminine viewpoint is always there but, sometimes, she finds Willie bubbling up to the surface with his male perspective. “He gives a ‘tell’ when he’s near. A tumbleweed appears and rolls by me.”
As if on cue, a tumbleweed blew through the room and out the window. Weekly World News then asked Wanda what it was like to be such an attractive woman but with the memory and knowledge of a man who lived 150 years ago.
Wanda cackled, a newfound glint in her eye, and her voice a little lower and raspy. “Well, let’s face it. I’m stacked to the max. I mean, I’m a hot time ready to happen. I’m glad I don’t have to shave anymore but I miss scratching my crotch. When a woman does it, it’s frowned upon. And spitting through my teeth turns off a lot of guys.”
DATING A GUNSLINGER IN A STRIPPER’S BODY
In terms of guys, does Wanda date? “Yeah. It’s pretty weird. It’s almost like an ménage à trois. I usually wind up riding on top and trying to evoke the feeling I get when I’m on a bronco. Sometimes it works. Sometimes I go down the street to the saloon and ride a mechanical bull for a couple of hours.
“I miss having a package, though.”
Why was Wanda revealing her connection to Willie, now? Her rasp disappeared and her eyes twinkled. “It’s tough being a stripper during a pandemic, with the masks and gloves and all. I want everyone to know that I’m being possessed by a real desperado. To encourage audiences to come in, they’ll all be given bandanas and told that they’re part of my robber gang. The rubber gloves will keep their fingerprints off the next bank safe.
“I come out with a ‘robber’ look, bandana pulled over my nose and mouth and play with my guns.”
Weekly World News agreed it was a great idea. But what would happen if it didn’t work?
Wanda’s voice grew huskier. “Then, I guess I’ll be one bitchin’ hit gal.”