It was a few months after that unfortunate Halloween evening when I again ran into John Travolta. I was parking cars at a fancy Los Angeles restaurant, and he pulled up in a Mercedes with what I assumed was an agent or some sort.
"I remember you!" he exclaimed, handing me his keys. "You were that dolphin!"
"Yeah, I was..."
"I STILL think of that night: oh man, what could have been..."
"Yeah, it was a nice party..."
"I'll tell you a little secret..."
"That isn't necessary..."
"I still masturbate about you in that dolphin suit..."
For a brief moment I closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere far, far away, but John Travolta kept speaking.
"You know -- jerked off?"
"I'm familiar with what 'masturbate' means, sir..."
"You know, I can hire almost anyone in this town to wear a dolphin suit for me, but you: you were something special."
"I'm glad you remember the party fondly, sir."
"Maybe after my dinner we can get some time together, just you and me, and we can reminisce....
"Sir, I better move your car: Steve Guttenberg is behind you, and he is getting mad."
"Screw Steve Guttenberg! Steve Guttenberg is a freak! You know what that freak is into?"
"I don't need to know, sir..."
"Water sports! Golden showers! And I mean, there's not even someone dressed like a dolphin pissing on him: a dolphin pissing on you -- that's natural, you know what I mean?"
"I understand your words, Mr. Travolta..."
"There isn't even a guy dressed up like a dolphin, it's just young girls..."
"Yes sir..."
"I mean, these young girls come to Hollywood with stars in their eyes, and the next thing they know they are peeing on Steve Guttenberg in some Beverly Hills hotel room, it's wrong, you know?"
"I think so, too, sir..."
"And then he is peeing on THEM, all the while promising them that they'll be in a "Police Academy" sequel with Bobcat Goldthwait, that's fucked up..."
"That is fucked up, sir..."
"You know, he tried to get people in Hollywood to call the act of having two fingers and a thumb inserted into your anus a 'Guttenberg,' can you believe that?"
"Unfortunately I can, sir..."
"Like that never happened in Hollywood before. I was doing that very thing with Gabe Kaplan's thumb way back on the set of 'Welcome Back, Kotter', but did I expect people to call it a 'Travolta'? Or a 'Barbarino', for that matter?"
"I would imagine the answer is 'no,' sir."
"You have to EARN it."
"That would seem to be fair, sir..."
"I've had Dustin Hoffman's Academy Award put up my ass, do I call that a 'Hoffman'?"
"No sir..."
"Well, I DO call it a "Hoffman", you know why?"
"Uh, I don't, sir."
"Why? Because Dustin deserves the Respect."
"Understood, sir..."
"I accepted that Oscar in my ass with HONOR."
"Seems like it would indeed be a very special moment..."
"I bet no self-respecting Oscar winner would EVER put their Oscar in Steve Guttenberg's ass. Except Ben Kingsley, maybe."
"I wouldn't have expected that, sir."
"Oh, Ben is known around Hollywood as a 'piss guy', too -- that's why he took the role in 'Gandhi'."
"Sir?"
"You know -- Gandhi. Little Indian dude who liked to drink piss."
"Thank you for connecting those dots, sir."
"By the way: do you still have that dolphin costume?"
"No sir: I burned it."
"That's a shame. I'm sure I can get a girl on the set to make you another one."
"That really isn't necessary, sir, and Mr. Guttenberg is honking..."
"Okay, I'll head inside, but please do me a favor..."
"What would that be sir?"
"Tell the girl with Guttenberg to wear a raincoat..."
After which I quit my job on the spot: the word around the valets was that Guttenberg would talk your ear off...
I am Laslo.
No comments:
Post a Comment