“Stop drinking out of the toilet,” my father told me.
Dad taught me the important lessons in life.
He’d take me to Home Depot and yell at the paint associate. Afterwards, Dad would show me the construction workers, contractors, and day laborers, and say “those are real men,” then disappear to the bathroom for a few hours.
Usually I’d cry myself to sleep when he’d come home drunk, turn the gas stove on, and threatened to burn down the house.
I’ll never forget the lessons he taught me.
Dad never said much. But finally, on his deathbed, he told me, “if I knew it would end in type II diabetes, cirrhosis of the liver, and coronary artery disease, I would have done everything different. I never loved your mother. You’re embarrassing to me as my son. I regret everything.”
I was raising Cain up and down the aisles when an employee came up to me.
“Can I help you sir?”
“Look asshole,” I said. “I need a ball joint. Some spark plugs. Some sea foam. A battery. A rear view mirror. Two 15 inch rims. And no I will not wear a mask!”
“But sir, this is the Los Angeles Community Hospital.”
So I packed too much Copenhagen into my lip and started throwing up profusely.
A woman knocked on the bathroom door and asked “are you alright?”
I said “who the fuck are you?”
She said “I’m your wife, I haven’t seen you in four years and I need child support.”
I said “क्षमा करें मुझे अंग्रेजी नहीं आती”
She said “your son’s here. He wants to talk to you.”
“Which son?” I asked.
She said “Flavio Briatore Alexandro McFinny.”
So I put my ear up to the door and asked “Flavio, is that you?”
“Yes dad,” he answered. “Why don’t you come home? It’s been too long. I miss our time together. You’ve missed too much. I’m getting married this summer. You have a beautiful grandchild on the way.”
“Flavio, I wish it were that easy,” I replied.
“We forgive you,” he said. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be a family. I want you to know your grandchildren. I want us to get to know one another, to make up for lost time. There’s nothing in your past that can’t be forgiven. You just need to forgive yourself.”
Could it be true? Have I been too selfish? Have I been wallowing in my self-loathing for far too long that I’ve missed the important things in life?
“Flavio?” I asked. “What are you going to name your child?”
“Arianna Francesca”
I emptied out all the contents in my pockets: the uppers, the downers, the benzodiazepines, the methamphetamines, the methylenedioxymethamphetamines, the oxycodones, the lysergic acid diethyliamides, the sildenafils, the simvastatins, and my trusty Derringer. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
“You’re under arrest for the possession of narcotics, solicitation, and public indecency. You have the right to remain silent….” the officer said.
I just got a new pair of truck nuts for my 2004 Dodge Ram 2500. Luciana Ortega De Navarro was impressed.
Luciana was the heiress to the largest cigarette manufacturer in Southern Cal. It recently went out of business. She asked me out on a date while I was sleeping in the doorway of her storefront in Venice.
She had a thing for hard luck cases.
So I finally brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair. I put on my best Def Leppard shirt and met her at Il Porcellino, the finest Italian place near Marina Del Ray.
Luciana wore a floral red dress. Her dark hair flowed down to her shoulders and her skin was as radiant as the Mediterranean sunset. She was stunning.
We shared a bottle of Molinara from Veneto over candlelight. She asked, “do you go to church?”
“I’ve been there before.”
“How do you feel about 3rd Baptist Church of Culver City?”
“I’ll give it a shot,” I said.
That Sunday, I wore a clip-on tie and went to church. Elderly people abound. They all asked “Welcome Brother James, isn’t Luciana great?!”
“I guess,” I said.
Services began. The choir sang “Are You Washed in the Blood”. The pastor waddled out from behind the stage.
The preacher was a heavyset man, obscenely flabby. He wore a flannel suit and lightly tinted bifocals. He asked us to take out our Bibles.
“Open to Romans 3:48.”
The parishioners complied.
“Now, my congregation, I wish to speak on god’s grace, his mercy, and his message to all the people of earth.”
Silence fell over the church.
“Yesterday, while I was praying, a voice said to me ‘I will bring forth your people as testimony to this cursed world.’ I replied ‘God! What does this mean?’ The voice said ‘do not worry, just listen to my commands,’”preacher continued.
All eyes were now glued to him.
“The voice said ‘Get up!’ So I got up. Then it said ‘take off your shirt!’ So I took off my shirt. Then it told me ‘take off your pants’. So I took off my pants. ‘Now drink your own piss!’ So I drank my own piss.”
The preacher began to move around the stage.
“It was at this time when I felt the grace of Jesus Christ inside of me. I leapt for joy! And I knew right then what I had to do.”
He then walked over to the assistant pastor.
“Brother Ted, please stand up.”
He stood up.
“Ladies and gentleman of this congregation. This is the future I want to bring forth.”
The preacher then pulled down Brother Ted pants, exposing his fully erect penis.
Gasps filled the audience.
As the parishioners started getting riled up, the preacher continued.
“Do not be afraid,” he said as he held Brother Ted’s member. “Change is always scary. But this is the beginning of a new era!”
The preacher then shoved Brother Ted’s penis into his ass. The sound of clapping ass cheeks echoed throughout the church.
Women in the aisles were passing out. The men shouted “Amen!”
“Come here Brother Al,” the preacher said to another assistant.
And the preacher sucked and fucked his way through the sermon, igniting his congregation into a titillated frenzy.
As we were driving home, Luciana asked, “what did you think about the service?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “It was a little tame. Think I’ll just stay a Catholic.”
So Ed and me were getting tore up at an Applebee’s when the waitress asked “can I get you anything else?”
“Just keep the mai tais coming you dumb bitch!” Ed said.
“Keep it down, Ed,” I said.
“You can’t stop me! I’m an animal. An ANIMAL!” he replied.
So finally karaoke started and I sang “Don’t You Want Me”. Ed was at the bar, striking out with every elderly woman he talked to.
“Fuck this place,” Ed said. “A mojito for the road!”
Then some jackass walked in with his trophy wife. “Hey baby, nice pooter!” Ed yelled.
“Sir don’t talk to my wife like that. We’re Mormons.”
Ed later shagged his wife on the toilet. When he came out, he grabbed me by the arm and said “let’s go. I clogged the shitter.”
The manager came out and told us that if we didn’t leave now, he was calling the police.
“You can’t tell me to leave! This is a public place!”. Ed then sat down at the bar.
“All lives matter! And vaccines aren’t real!”
When the cops arrived, Ed told them “I’ve read the Declaration of Independence. I don’t have to carry a permit for this Remington .45!”
The cops drew their weapons and ordered him to drop it. “This is bullshit!” he said. He took one last sip of his Vegas Bomb and said “I guess this is as good of place as any” then almost opened fire.
An officer shot him in the ass and Ed groaned with pain and pleasure. “Can I get one more mimosa?” he asked before falling to the ground.
Ed was charged a misdemeanor for being a public nuisance.
I couldn’t believe it. I’d expect something like that to happen at an Olive Garden, but not at Applebee’s.
Dale and I were found outside of Palm Springs buck naked. We were bound together and gagged. It took awhile for the police to realize we were victims and not nudists.
We were taken to the hospital where I was treated for massive scrotal damage. Dale was alright.
“Aye, don’t worry lad. We’ll get your wee workin again. You watch,” Dick (my Scottish roommate) said.
“Never mind that. I need you to find Honda. It isn’t over between us,” I instructed Dick.
“Aye”
Dick quickly left the hospital room to begin work. Dale spoke up.
“I’m just glad that we all made it out alive,” he said.
“No one asked you anything,” I said.
Anthrax also came to visit. After Dale and Dick exited, she came to my bedside.
“I need you to tell me everything you know about Honda,” she inquired.
“She seems to possess extraordinary strength. I don’t think she’s human anymore, Anthrax. I think she’s a cyborg. Who the fuck would do that to her? Randy’s a dumbass, there’s no way he could’ve done something like that,” I told her.
“I think I know who.”
“Who? That stupid ass crime syndicate? Honda said that they didn’t want her anymore. That’s why she’s riding around with those dorks like she’s Peter fuckin Fonda,” I replied.
“It’s not Randy. It’s not the syndicate,” Anthrax said.
“Alright. This is getting too complicated and contrived. But if you or Dick find Honda, tell her I’m coming after her,” I said.
“I’ll find her. But please, before you do anything, I need to know if there’s at least an ounce of humanity in her. If there is, I know that I can save her. Please James.”
I agreed.
As Anthrax began to leave, I grabbed her by the hand.
“I learned from a James Bond movie that before one seeks vengeance, they must first dig two graves,” I said.
“But I’m not seeking vengeance,” Anthrax replied.
“Oh yeah, I am. I mean….please be careful.”
Anthrax gave a faint smile then departed. I laid in the hospital bed bored and feeling awkward for not feeling like I have to compulsively masturbate.
“Your mother is on the phone,” a nurse told me.
I reluctantly took the call.
“Ohh my poor Tony,” mom said. “I heard that you were in the hospital!”
“This is James, ma. Who the hell is Tony?”
“What do you mean? I don’t have dementia,” she said. “How’s my sweetheart doing?”
“I’m alright. Is something wrong? I’ve been to the hospital hundreds of times and you’ve never called.”
“I’m just checking up on my favorite son. What are you, a moron?”
“I’m your only son Ma,” I said. “Anyway, are you sure Nicky is not my father?”
“Did you not read your birth certificate?”
“You put down Lou Diamond Phillips. Is there anything you can tell me about my father?”
“He was a tall glass of water. He could send shivers up and down my body with one touch. He was smooth, suave, with a voice of gold like Sinatra in a younger day. You don’t remind me of him at all,” Ma replied.
I haven’t been to Norco since I was mugged behind that high school in 95.
But I was taking Nicky, my dad, to Dale’s house in my mom’s Saturn Ion. It was a pleasant drive down I-10.
“You know,” Nicky said. “I haven’t been to Norco since I mugged a guy behind that high school in 95.”
“Well hopefully this will be your first steps towards a new beginning,” I said. “Say, when was the last time you’ve seen Jenny?”
“Not since you were born. I’m sure your mother is as beautiful as the day I met her.”
I didn’t reply.
Nicky looked out the window, taking all the sights that Riverside County had to offer. After several minutes of silence, Nicky said:
“You know, I’ve fucked everything up. I’m just a total disaster, a loser, a piece of shit, totally worthless, absolute garbage, just trash, deserve to be castrated, impaled, burned alive, and dumped into the sea. But if I’ve done one thing right in this life, it’s having a son like you. It’s made it all worthwhile.”
We continued to enjoy our drive as father and son.
We arrived at Dale’s cabin outside of town. Dale was outside, firing his rifle aimlessly into the air.
“Now Dale,” I said. “Dad gets depressed and suicidal frequently. So you might have to give him some of your unused medications from time to time.”
Dad went inside to take a nap while I went to the car to get his bags. Something glistened across the horizon out of the corner of my eye. I looked again at the eerie apparition.
“Fuckin Norco,” I thought.
Then the howling of hell echoed across the valley. A legion of bikers, renegades, outcasts, mohawks, and cenobites filled the prairie, ripping up the fields with their choppers, dirt bikes, and jacked up Dodges. Their storm cloud of dirt and smoke moved ever closer.
“Could it be?” I thought.
Dale stood in awe of the ungodly sight, paralyzed by fear.
“Dale,” I said. “Grab your G36.”
But it was too late. The ragtag army had us surrounded. The leather cladded gang bound both Dale and me and took us to an undisclosed desert location.
We were forced to our knees and the shrouds were lifted from our faces. A hooded figure, decked in black robes appeared before us. The figure slowly began to remove their coverings, revealing a face that neither resembled man nor earthly creature.
I instantly recognized this devilish being.
“Honda,” I gasped. Her face was no longer human. She was more machine than man.
She walked up to Dale and looked him up and down. “You. I don’t know you,” she said.
“But you, I never forget a face. James.”
“Honda,” I said. “What’s the meaning of this attack? If it’s money you want, then I’ve got some bad news for you.”
“SILENCE!” she yelled. She moved closer to us. “You know how I got this face. You know that you kicked my uterus into sterility. You’ve cursed me to wonder this earth as a nomad, as a castoff. Unwanted by the syndicate. Unwanted by society. This crew you see, we seek not money, or acts of deception, or extortion. We have one aim that unites us all: Revenge.”
“Okay, I’m sorry for kicking your poonan beyond repair,” I said. “But it wasn’t me that detonated all that dynamite. Randy did that. He was trying to cover his tracks. He never cared about you and Anthrax. You were both cannon fodder to whatever his deranged plan was. Come on, Honda! You know that’s true! It’s Randy you want, not me!”
Honda turned around in contemplation. After a long pause, she slammed her hands into the table in front of her, smashing it to bits. After standing over the wreckage, she directed her attention towards me.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “But you and I have some unfinished business.”
Honda then slowly lifted me off the ground, gazing into my eyes, and kneed me square in the dong.
I shot up on some ‘roids to help with my low T when I got pissed off.
“That mother fucker,” I though. “He borrowed $15 from me ten years ago and never paid me back.”
I was of course thinking of Nicky Wallz, a bouncer at a strip club I once frequented. I lost touch with him after the joint got shot up in a disastrous FBI raid.
“I’m gonna beat his ass,” I thought. But I didn’t know where to find him.
Dick was sitting there, cutting away a slice of deer meat with his sawtooth Bowie, when I asked him: “I need you to find me a Nicky Wallz.”
“Aye mate,” he replied. “The price es steep though lad. Ya donnae have a penny to yur name. I just a might be callin n a favour from ya.”
“Just find him.”
Weeks went by. In my restlessness, I began bulking and sculpting. I fought every shit heel in the bar that wanted some, smashing glass and busting heads…all in preparation for my showdown with Nicky Wallz. But Dick was dragging his ass.
“Hey Dick!” I yelled. “What’s the word on Nicky? I told you to find him seven weeks ago. You better not be cruising the the rest stops again.”
“Oy mate, I see ya lookin’ fit lad. But donnae talk to me like tha again. Or else I’ll stab ya in the scrote,” he replied.
“Oh you want some of this?”
“Aye I do.”
We both removed our shirts, displaying our perfectly sculpted abs and chest. Before we fought, we rubbed each other in oil…down our arms, down our legs…before removing our underwear, where I used the oil to rub his magnificent c—…..
Anyways, after venting my frustrations, Dick asked me, “Aye mate, why you bein such a snoot lately? What is it with this Nicky fella?”
I didn’t know how to answer.
“Perhaps I just haven’t noticed how the time has passed,” I said. “I’m getting older. I’m losing friends, acquaintances. Maybe they’ve moved on and I haven’t. I just feel like I’ve learned nothing. Nothing of importance. Nothing about myself.”
We sat in silence for a few moments.
Dick spoke up. “Well lad, I found him weeks ago but didnae wanna tell ya. Maybe let sleepin’ dogs lie yeah?”
Maybe he was right. Nevertheless…
“Where is he?” I asked.
Dick and I went down to the Los Angeles County Hospital, Psych Ward B. The doctor warned us to handle Nicky with utmost care. The nurses were handing out meals to the patients when I walked up to Nicky and slapped the trey out of his hands.
“Recognize me asshole!” I said.
Amazed, Nicky said, “James, you’re alive old friend?”
“Still?! Old friend?!” I said. “Where’s my $15 you piece of shit?”
“Is that what this is about? Money? Nothing else?” he replied.
“What do you mean?”
“James, when I was 15, I was homeless and sleeping under a car. An older woman found me and took me in. She fed me. Clothed me. And gave me an education. We were close. Too close. We began a forbidden love affair. It was wrong, we both knew that. We tried to hide it, but the authorities found out. They took her away but not before we sired a child. That woman was Jenny, your mother.”
“Horseshit,” I said.
“Not horseshit. My only regret is never having the heart to tell you. After that strip club got shot up to absolute shreds, I never recovered. That’s why I’m here, because I just can’t bear the guilt of knowing who I am.”
Dick and me left the hospital in quiet contemplation. Could it be true? How could my mother have hid this from me?
We wandered back to the car then I pulled out a cigarette. I said to Dick:
The Internet Ruined Everything 