F.A.Q. Advice for the 21st Century

FAQ Chapter 63 Los Angeles

 

Warren settled into his first class seat, opened his laptop, and after investigating a hissing sound, which turned out to be Mad Wolf trying to whistle at a flight attendant, went to work.

 

I’ll Huff and I’ll Puff and I’ll Blow the Game Out

by

Warren Piece

 

Last night in Miami’s United Eagles Arena the Miami Crepe Suzettes were booed heavily on their way to the most disappointing set of events in Miami since Don Johnson parked the Ferarri for good.

Booing was again in vogue, beer sales were up, and the Miami City paramedics were breaking out the smelling salts for Coach Putt Roadkill, who began suffering fainting spells after his team played a brand of basketball usually exibited in an elementary school gym.

Coach Roadkill: “The only thing I had confidence in last night was my hair. My hair was perfect at the end of the game. My hair’s a freakin’ winner.”

Charlotte Crumpetts forward Jamak Washblue: “We’re not surprised at the outcome of these games. The sun comes up in the morning, does it not? We’re a loose, close knit group. About the only thing we don’t share is wives and jockstraps, and that shows when you get to the playoffs.”

Miami forward Paulie Smuckers: “I don’t know if we were playing that badly, or if they were playing that well. Coach Roadkill’s hair looked good the whole game, that I do know.”

Coach Putt Roadkill: “We’ve got a big hurdle to come back from, two down, and to play the next one in their building. We’re running out of time. I feel old.”

Miami guard Tom Easybean: “Fonzie Cloaking spent most of his blows on the floor stretching out a cramping back. When you’re center’s out, it’s tough to stay competitive. Cloaking! His shit is weak.”

Miami center Fonzie Cloaking: “We’ve done this before. Granted, we were ten years younger, and Easybean still had a killer three point shot, which, where did that go, by the way? Easybean! His shit is weak. But we’ve got to find a way to win these games. Coach Roadkill’s hair looks great, doesn’t it?”

The Charlotte Crumpetts lead the Miami Crepe Suzettes 2-0 in the first round best of five.

 

Last night in San Antonio’s Dukedome the Minnesota Woodies wore traditional footwear, played an aggresive double teaming D, said please and thank you before and after every pass off, only to get crushed, annialated, embarrassed, taken to school, blown out, and nearly disbanded.

Minnesota foward Kenneth Corbett: “They made every play. We tried to be agressive, but with three guys on the perimeter and those two big guys packing the middle, their defense was too tough. That’s why I’m trying to switch sides before the next game. I’m a winner, and I want to play with the team that’s winning.”

Minnesota Woodies coach Fritz Flop: “That is the best defense we’ve seen all year. They played reaaaalllly well. Like champions. Our uniforms are better, though, and next game we have given the cheerleaders some really cool raps to perform during time outs.”

San Antionio Rhinestones coach Gary Olivevino: “We were really surprised at the margin of victory. We were taking it to them so strong I told our guys at the start of the fourth quarter it was ok to use their cell phones during fast breaks.”

Minnesota Woodies foward Kennie Corbett: “I could use some help here. The only guy to score in double figures on our team was a freakin’ bench guy I don’t even know. Maybe if Tyco Branding would concentrate more on his shot selection instead of his freakin’ electric blue shoes I’d be playin’ with a winner. I’m a winner. Anybody seen my G.E.D. Certificate?”

Minnesota guard Tyco Branding: “So, Kennie is a sports doctor now? My freakin’ ankle is killin’ me. The guy has never had to play with an injury, and his idea of a fashion statement is a black belt with brown shoes. Where is he? I’m gonna go kick his ass.”

San Antonio Rhinestones Center/forward Tan Toucan: “This game was like a good soup. All the right ingredients. A little coaching, a little cursing, and some chumps for flavor.”

The San Antonio Rhinestones lead the first round best of five 2-0.

 

Last night the Houston Crocketts went to an Aerosmith concert at the Bush Arena.

Coach Rudy Tomjohnabitch: “I can speak for the team as a whole when I say this concert is doing a lot to placate some of our guys who thought they didn’t get enough play last night at Lily Langtree’s Lingerie modeling show.”

Crocketts center Aheem Parthenon: “Walk this way, walk this way, walk this way. Love in an elevator!”

The playoffs continue tonight as A Piece of the Afternoon Show continues it’s journey through the cities of the ZBA in search of the Rock Kings and digging on the kabitzing life.

 

Dear Frank,

You’ll never guess whom I ran into yesterday afternoon. Dole Harper! He limped into Arcade arena just after we finished our show (are you listening to the program at all??? I know you are!)

We actually had a semi serious conversation, but I don’t trust him anymore than an American made economy car.

Could you do me a favor and ask around the Big Town to see what sort of weirdness he might be up to?

Thanks, Frank!

Piece

 

Mad Wolf leaned over Warren and asked, “Mind if I park my saddle sore carcus next to ya?”

“Do it, brother.”

“I talked to my parole afficer yesterday. The charges against me have been dropped, but he couldn’t tell me anything else. We were not on a secure line, she said.”

“Well, congratulations.”

Mad Wolf shifted in his seat so he could look directly at Warren.

“How do murder charges get dropped, just dropped?”

“You think I know something.”

“You get around, yeah.”

“I haven’t known you all that long, Wolf,”

“Discretion. I like that. OK, I’ll be checking back with ya.”

Mad Wolf smiled at Warren, got up, and walked toward the airplane lavortory chuckling to himself.

 

“OK. evreybody, we’re about to break out into what can only be described as the most energetic city this side of New York. We’ve taken precautions. We’ve all been booked into the Westin Bonaventure. All of us in a massive three suite configuration. We’ll be doing the show from the Nailgun Center. The Clampetts are in town, and we’ll be there while they are practicing. We have a white limo waiting for us. Let’s move.”

 

The crew walked through the Colonial airlines terminal behind Albie. Mad Wolf popped his bubble gum, Theotis strode with his head down, keeping his eyes on Albie’s shoes, Lily’s head was moving right to left and left to right, Jamal was walking his best brother man walk, Louie was on his cell phone, and Yasmine was reading a copy of Mac Addict while she walked. Warren brought up the rear, sipping on a double lunar latee.

They broke into the sunshine and found their man.

“Albie, I don’t want to go against the plan, but could we pull this modern marvel of transportation into a Mickey D’s for an eggamuffin or somefin?”

“Jamal,” Albie said, “we’re expressing to the hotel. They have several restaurants there.”

“Yeah, but I’m just sayin’, as long as we’re on the road, we might as well make a stop. Hey, I ain’t asking you to give me a lap dance. I just want some hash browns and a sauasage biscuit. And the only reason I’m askin’ instead of tellin’ is I see you’re not wearin’ a bra today, and you’ve got my respect for that.”

Albie looked at the driver.

The driver looked at Jamal.

The crew climbed in the limo.

Mad Wolf said, in a radio voice, “Next stop, Mickey D’s. Jamal 1, Albie nothing.”

Albie looked at Jamal. “Hey, Jamal.”

Jamal looked at Albie, “Yeah?”

“Eat your heart out.” Albie pulled up her blouse, arched her back, and then quickly restored her dignity.

Jamal laughed. “Damn, woman, you tryin’ to bonerize me?”

“There is bottled water in the wetbar if you guys are thirsty,” said the driver.

“I think we need to pour a bottle over Jamal’s head to cool him off,” said Lily as she rubbed Jamal’s leg.

“Do we really want to steam up the vehicle?”

asked Warren.

“Have we left the airport yet?” asked Louie.

“We have thirty minutes before we get to the hotel,” said Albie.

“Good,” said Louie. I’m going to take a power nap.”

“I’m going to take a cat nap,” said Lily.

“I’m going to take a rap nap,” said Jamal.

“I’m going to make a temporal adjustment,” said Theotis.

“I’m going to dream of big dogs and loud guns,” said Mad Wolf.

“I’m going to concentrate on Albie’s image from three minutes ago,” said Warren.

“I’m going on the net and get directions to Muscle Beach, paint my toenails, and make a Bloody Mary,” said Yasmine. “I love L.A.”

 

Good afternoon and welcome to a Piece of the Afternoon on KSPORT Houston and KLAID, Los Angeles. This is Warren Piece with my crew Mad Wolf Sherman, Houston Crockett Jamal Deadburn, astrologer Theotis Holland, our producer Albie Darling, and sports reporter Lily Creamer. I’d like to thank KLAID’s afternoon drive team of Mark and the Mad Dog for graciously giving us this time today. Albie, where did we send them?”

“They opted to go to Santa Catalina Island to look for a Catalina Shrew.”

“What?”

“That’s a conservation island and a bird that’s only been spotted twice. They’re turning the search for the Catalina Shrew into a one on one competition.”

“They took cheerleaders, right?” asked Mad Wolf.

“Three each.”

Jamal said, “When we get off the air I’m going to go search for the Catalina bitch on Rodeo Drive.”

“And you’re, ah, planet alignment gaurantees you’re, ah, success,” said Theotis.

“Lily, before the show goes completely in the ditch, can you give us your rundown on the sex appeal of the Los Angeles Clampetts, who, by the way, are practicing on the floor even as we speak to you from the wonderful Nailgun Center in downtown Los Angeles.”

“My favorite color is gold, so when I noticed on my lockerspy cam the amount of gold the Clampetts wear even when they’re wearing nothing else I had to pop a Valium and two Xanax to bring my respiration rate back to normal. This team has a massage therapist for every player, dressed in gold robes and slippers. There are gold barrels of creatin all over the locker room. The knee braces are gold flecked. Their in locker room tattoo artist wears a gold headband, a gold t-shirt, gold jeans, and gold high top Chuck Taylor All-Stars.

I used my credentials to get inside the locker room. I had to smell the place. It was like the inside of an incense factory. Apparently Coach Pill Colorado bought Yankee Candle futures and went to sleep at the wheel, wound up with a tractor trailer full of the damn things, and needs a place to burn them.

I was in the locker room this morning, after the team had taken the floor for practice, so I was able to poke around a little. I saw several musical instruments in one corner, arranged on a little stage. I walked closer, and noticed some cages hanging from the 20 foot ceilings. I saw a staircase leading to a catwalk, so I climbed it, out of curiosity. I discovered upon closer inspection the cages were big enough for a couple of people. I climbed inside one. They were padded with gold carpet, and fitted with electronic devices. I couldn’t tell what those were, so I touched one. The door closed on me, a J. LO tune I’ve never heard starting playing throughout the locker room, and these crazy lights began to sweep the cage. Then the cage began to swing back and forth on some motorized pully system. Then all that crap shut off. A voice from down below said, “The rules are, if you’re in the cage, you have to act like an animal.”

That’s how I happened to run into Coach Pill, who agreed to appear on our show.

I think the Clampetts have the most together physical specimans I’ve seen so far. The cages for the Clampett Girls to play in during postagame parties put them over the top. I rate them 3 orgies and a group mudbath!”

“Good spot out of Lily, This is a Piece of the Afternoon on KSPORT, Houston and KLAID, Los Angeles. Back with Coach Pill.”

 

“Good afternoon evreyone and welcome back to a Piece of the Afternoon on KSPORT, Houston and KLAID, Los Angeles. With us now is the coach of the Los Angeles Clampetts, Pill Colorado. Good afternoon Coach Pill.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, how are you doing? The seats OK?”

“I sense a, uh, great power in this one,” said Theotis.

“Watch your snacks around this guy, Pill,” said Mad Wolf.

Pill said, “I actually cover proper diet in my book, ‘Nudity, One Idea Salami, the I-Ching and You’, available now on Amazon.com.”

“Coach,” asked Warren, “How do you explain the phenominal success of your basketball teams?”

“I use the most innovative offense in the league, designed by my good friend and offensive guru Tax Shelter.”

“You guys are part of one of the longest running coaching teams in the ZBA. That must be something you’re proud of.”

“Actually I demoted him this year and promoted ex Clampett foward Kurd English to run the offense. Kurd’s new girlfriend is friends with Tax’s new girlfriend. I was able to maipulate that relationship and finally get a copy of Tax’s hard drive. I opened the autocad program he had written to describe the Iscoles offense in 3-D detail, deleted the copyright symbols, converted the ideas into a book format, and contacted my agent. The book will be out in the fall. It’s called, ‘Here’s the Iscoles offense, Not That You’d Understand It Anyway.’ There’s going to be a nice picture of me holding the rock in my playing days on the cover, and the book will be available on Amazon.com.”

Lily said, “Coach Pill, I noticed some very interesting machines in the Clampetts weight room. Do you have anyone designing special gear for workouts you’ve implemented?”

“Oh, yeah, we’ve got some secret gear. I have my own personal secret gear, in my office. I keep it in the Whirpool and the Jacuzzi. Would you like to check it out? I can get Kurd to run practice, that bastard owes me.”

Mad Wolf said, “One more question Coach Pill. Is there a team in the ZBA that scares you?”

Coach Pill looked over his glasses at Mad Wolf and then turned to look at Lily. “Yeah, the team of agents that are going to demand long green for their players, my players, after we kick the crap out of evreybody on our way to another championship.”

Pill looked at Mad Wolf and winked. He leaned toward Wolf and said in a stage whisper, “The young sports chicks love the smell of overconfidence on a man.”

Warren said, “Coach Pill, thanks for being on the show. Good luck in the rest of the playoffs. Your calls, next. This is a Piece of the Afternoon on KSPORT, Houston and KLAID, Los Angeles.”

Albie took the show to commercial. Lily and Pill talked as they made their way out of the makshift control room at the Nailgun Arena. Mad Wolf picked up his copy of The Sporting News, and Warren went to watch the Clampetts run some drills.

 

“Kimmy from Westwood Village, you’re on KSPORT and KLAID.”

“Hi. I’m going to UCLA.”

“Oh, what’s your major?”

“Film. I want to be a director.”

“How you doin’ with that?”

“Good. I’ve already made three shorts. I actually shot them on d-video and edited them myself with Final Cut Pro, but I get to switch to real film next year, and my actors will have their clothes on.”

“What’s on our mind today?”

“I wondered why the Clampetts don’t give a break to students, do a nice thing and reserve a few seats for kids going to school right here in L.A. Maybe just a few games a year, in the cheap seats. What’s your opinion?”

Mad Wolf said, “I want to get back to her film career.”

Jamal said, “It sounds like to me she’s taken up permanent residence in fairy land. The ZBA champions giving seats away?”

“Danny from Stagecoach, Texas, you’re on KSPORT, KLAID.”

“Hi ya’ll. I’ll ask my question and then turn it over to you and listen. The Houston Crocketts seem to be intent on keeping the current team together. Do you think this is a good idea, considering they didn’t make the playoffs this year?”

Jamal said, “Hey, Danny, unless you know something I don’t, we’ll be seeing a new team next year. Why do you think I left town? They can’t serve me with my walking papers if I ain’t in my crib, you know what i”m sayin’?”

Warren said, “Jamal’s paronioa aside, I think the Crocketts are going to retool the major position. I hate to say it, but I think the franchise center Aheem Parthenon may be headed north.”

“You really think they would trade Aheem?”

Mad Wolf said, “I thought Danny was going to hang up and let us talk.”

Warren said, “Theotis, what do your stars tell you?”

“Well, uh, a, Danny, Mercury is in the Fifth House, which can cause suprising events in your life, given your geographical location. I’d need your birth time and place to be more specific.”

Danny said, “Hang on guys, someone’s banging on the door. I hope it’s Dominoes.”

Mad Wolf said, “Are we really going to hang on?”

Warren said, “I want to know if he got the twisty bread.”

A voice on the phone said, “Who is this?”

“This is a radio sports talk show, who is this?”

“Captain Earhart, detective with the Houston P.D. Piece, is that you?”

Mad Wolf said, “Captain, Mad Wolf Sherman. What the hell is going on?”

“ Well, Mad Wolf! I hear you’re off our to do list. Danny’s the busiest scalper since Geranimo at Little Big Horn. That alone doesn’t get us excited, but the loan sharking coupled with his fencing buisness, well he should have quit when he was ahead. The good guys, that’s the Houston P.D., were outside trying to figure out if he was inside, listening to your radio show, when we heard him on the air. We figured that person pacing in front of the window was most likely him. The boy hadn’t been home for two weeks, and other people had been staying in the residence. Lawsuits today being what they are, we needed to be sure we tapped the right guy on the shoulder. You helped us bust him. Thanks, See ya when ya get back.”

The line went dead.

Warren said, “Hey Wolf, that’s the Captain Earhart that arrested you.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Warren said, “We’ll be back with A Piece of the Afternoon, after this.”

Albie took the show, and Warren walked with Mad Wolf to look for a Snapple machine.

 

“Theotis Holland, astrologer for The Piece of the Afternoon program, is here to give us the reading for the Los Angeles Clampetts. Theotis.”

“Good afternoon uh, ah, Warren, and good afternoon, uh, ah, everyone. The Clampetts have their top two players, center Baba O’Reilly and guard Cory Tropicana, tied by their Sun/Moon midpoint. Cory represents the male part of this relationship and Baba reprents the female side. This dynamic causes a powerful tie between the two players, even though they appear to be at odds most of the time.

The Arabian Part of Fortune between the Clampetts birth date and the birth date of the modern ZBA indicates a good relationship will always exist betwen this team and the league. This could explain why Baba gets to camp out in the lane, Cory gets four to five steps with the ball, and Rake Rooster gets to wear so much hair jell it gets all over the floor, the ball, and the spectators in the front row.

Coach Pill has Pluto in his first house, which enables him to control his team without obvious effort. This palentary aspect also causes him to have a weak bladder, which is why he sits on the bench with his legs crossed all the time. The man has to go!

I decided to check a theory on the Clampett cheerleaders, called the Clampett girls, and I discovered that not a single one has their moon in Cancer. That would indicate a homebody, one who likes to cook, talk to Mom, and cry when Brooke on All My Children suffers another bout of depression. The Clampett Girls have their moons in Gemini, Capricorn, Libra, and Leo. That is a representation of the heavens representing joy, excitement, and the occasional group bubble bath. They make up a galaxy all their own. Their moons are full. And best of all, they like to watch.”

“Thanks Theotis. We’ll be back on KSPORT and KLAID with a Clampett Girl, right after this.”

Albie keyed the intercom. “Their moons are full?”

Warren said, “Good spot out of Theotis.”

Albie took the show to commercial.

 

“You’re listening to A Piece of the Afternoon on KSPORT, Houston and KLAID, Los Angeles. Wayne is calling on his cell phone from The Sunset Strip. Wayne.”

“Hi, I’ve been up for three days straight enjoying the nightlife and I’m starting to see double. I wanted to ask who’ll you think will win the next Clampetts game. I’m about to crash, and I’m pretty sure I‘m going to sleep through it. I wanted to call my guy in Vegas and put some dough down on the Portland Fire Trails but I can’t think clearly and my oxygen mask has a crack in it so I can’t revive myself even one more time.”

Warren said, “Well Wayne, we can’t exactly give out gambling tips dude, but for that oxygen mask, try gaffers tape. If it’s good enough for thousands of mobile homes it’s good enough for you, you crazy bastard. Albie, do we have guests?”

Albie said, “Yes, we do.”

Warren said, “OK, Wolf, Theotis, Jamal, let’s make room for a couple of LA Clampett Cheerleaders!”

Wolf said, “Hi, ladies, come sit over here.”

“Thank you. I’m Tammy, and this is Evony.”

Jamal said, “Damn.”

Warren said, “So what do you ladies do when you’re not cheering?”

Tammy said, “I run.”

Evony said, “I run with Tammy.”

Warren asked, “Do ya’ll work?”

Tammy looked at Evony and wrinkled her nose. “Looking like I do in this town, are you kidding me?”

Tammy and Evony burst into giggles.

Wolf scooted his chair and microphone closer to Tammy.

Warren asked, “Do you cheer every time the Clampetts get a basket?”

Evony said, “No, but I do cheer when a really cute guy I’ve just met gets to second base. I really like second base.”

Wolf scooted his chair and microphone closer to Evony.

Warren asked, “What’s your favorite arena on the road?”

Tammy said, “We punted on the road gigs. Not enough time for beauty sleep and hanging around.”

Wolf asked, “Would you like a Snapple, an extra seat cushion, a Charleston Chew?”

Evony said, “You’re cute. Can you handle a gun? We need extra security for our afternoon pool party. We’re going to be at Tammy’s Venice Beach pad and we want to keep the roller bladers out.”

Wolf reached in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, removed something, and handed it to Evony.

She said, “How cute! A weapons merit badge from the Boy Scouts.”

Wolf said, “That is for marksmanship with a .44 Magnum, a Winchester Thirty-Thirty, and a Bowie Knife. Our scoutmaster was a Texas Ranger. We had the coolest troop.”

Tammy eyed Wolf while she slowly rubbed her index finger back and forth across her lips. “I’m getting hot.”

Warren said, “Albie! Fire hose!”

Albie entered the studio, walked over to Tammy, and poured a full 32 ounce bottle of Evian over her head.

Tammy said, “Now I’m hot and wet!”

Evony laughed and grabbed Tammy with one hand and Wolf with the other. “Let’s go to a pool party!”

Albie said, “Give me your address on your way out.”

Warren said, “Jamal Deadburn, last year’s rookie sensation for the Houston Crocketts, evaluates the Clampett’s talent and your calls next on KSPORT, Houston and KLAID, Los Angeles.”

 

“Kerry from Burbank, you’re on KSPORT and KLAID.”

“Hi. I’m working for Universal…”

“What do you do for them?”

“I run the tour of the backlot.”

Theotis said, “I can hear the power in your, ah, voice. I hear a tone that tells me your planets are in a rare phase of alignment. You could accomplish something today you’ve been wanting to do for a very long time.”

“My daughter is into astrology. If you give her a free read I’ll give you a V.I.P. tour of the backlot, which includes some major perks, savvy?”

“I’ll be over as soon as my Mars goes into retrograde!”

Warren said, “Albie, get Kerry’s info before we hang up.”

Jamal said, “Can we speed this up? I want to go to Fredericks of Hollywood and pretend I’m shopping for my girlfriend before the sun goes down and the neighborhood turns to crap.”

Warren said, “Kerry, what’s your point?”

“I had an idea for a movie. It has to do with a center for a west coast ZBA team who is 7 feet and weighs 310. His dream is to sail ski. His coach discourages him, but after the team wins it’s fourth championship in a row, our guy is hell bent on getting in the air. He sneaks off to Mono Lake, gets his personal trainer to drive a specially outfitted cigarette speedboat painted in team colors, and after several aborted attempts caused by the engine choking on the task of lifting a giant into the air, he becomes airborne, rising to a height of 200 feet. He’s thinking, ‘The freedom! The view! The California Gulls!’

Three gulls wack our guy, simultaneously, and he falls from the sky. The only thing that saves him from drowning is the amount of salt in the water. That keeps him afloat. He’s unconscious for several hours. He wakes up in Los Angeles County medical center and doesn’t know who he is for a five days. When his memory comes back, he decides to reject his former life and become a missionary. But then, the Coach brings his paycheck by the hospital, and he decides maybe he’ll just sponsor a nun or two instead. What do you think?”

Warren said, “Do you have an agent?”

“This is Burbank, everybody has an agent or is an agent or knows an agent or has beat the crap out of an agent.”

Warren said, “Would you have a problem switching the boat driver to an obsessed fan doubling as a love interest. She has kidnapped our guy and is forcing him to sail, and then after the accident she feels guilty and runs off to join a Buddhist colony and our guy spends the entire off season looking for her and doesn’t work out so he shows up for the title defense overweight, gets injured, but rallies at the end to lead his team to another playoff run and championship and on the day of the parade he spots her in the crowd and runs from the podium to embrace her. There’s your happy ending.”

Jamal said, “I think our guy would spot her in the crowd and send some of his people to grab her up. Then they would meet in the brother’s limo, the white one with the tinted windows, with the driver’s separation pane slightly down so he could hear if our guy was getting in over his head because, let’s face it, our boy is great shooter and rebounder but he can be had in the outside world. So they talk in low tones and they decide it’s never going to work, he’s glad he could see her one more time, he gives her two hundred thousand dollars, says have a nice life, she says thanks in a special way, so you see right here you’ve got your nude scene, and then our guy goes to a bust out championship celebration and winds up in the Jacuzzi with three hot Hollywood babes. There’s your happy ending.”

“Kerry, I hope we’ve been of some help. All we ask is passes to the premier! You’re listening to KSPORT, Houston and KLAID, Los Angeles.”

Albie took the show to break.

 

“We’re back with a Piece of the Afternoon on KSPORT and KLAID. Jamal Deadburn of the Houston Crocketts is here to give us his views on the Los Angeles Clampetts. Jamal.”

“Thank you Mr. Piece and hello everyone. I’ve been using an Orbiter electronic Listening Device to catch some key moments of the Clampetts practice goin’ on below us here in the Nailgun Center. I’ve recorded some sounds I’d like to play back for you now.”

“The bitch is in the details, Tropicana.”

“Who you callin’ a bitch, O’Reilly? Pass me the ball.”

“Great move Rooster, when are you gonna’ learn to finish it with a pass to your man Tropicana?”

“Hey O’Reilly, Coach Pill says we’re supposed to practice passing me the ball while he’s gone.”

“Hey O’Reilly, let’s practice the alley oop where you pass me the ball at the rim!”

Jamal said, “I think Cory Tropicana is hot for the rock! If they give it to Tropicana every time he asks for it he’ll drop fifty points on those old men from Portland before he drinks his first Sprite.

You have to like the year Baba O’Rielly is having. Well you don’t have to, there was that period when he wore his hair in braids, that was pretty tough to take on a seven foot two three hundred pound black man. But now he’s shaved his head and no longer stops practice to make the team watch Oprah. So if he can avoid problems with his abdomen, his ankles, his shoulders, the little toe on his right foot and the left jab of Reed Alabama, he’ll help Cory rock through the playoffs. Next year the Crocketts are going to take the championship rock from the Clampetts of LA. I’m going to go fire up the Orbitor again. This eavesdropping is addictive. I think the Orbitor could turn me into a degenerate if I’m not careful.”

The door to the press box the crew was using for a makeshift studio flew open. Cory Tropicana and Baba O’Reilly entered the room with a man from Staplegun arena security.

Cory pointed at Jamal and asked, “Is that the dude?”

The security man walked over to Jamal, picked up the Orbitor, and said, “The Smoking Gun.”

Warren said, “Hi guys, welcome to a Piece of the Afternoon on KSPORT and KLAID.”

“Hi. Hey.”

Warren said, “You guys look like you’re having a good practice. Albie, can we get a few dozen towels in here?”

Jamal said, “Hey guys, haven’t seen you two since we were a three and two free throws from taking the game at the Bush Center.”

Baba said, “We were going over to Angelo’s for some burgers and fries with purple and gold ketchup.”

Cory said, “Baba likes to chase those Anaheim girls on roller skates around the parking lot.”

“Yeah, I can never catch ‘em, but they usually give me a free chocolate shake for trying.”

Cory said, “Bring that microphone thingamajig. We’ll drive around Beverly Hills and try to pick up which crib Carmen Elektra’s in. She owes me a backrub.”

Theotis said, “Can you fellows uh, ah, drop me off in Burbank?”

Warren said, “You guys have a game with The Fire Trails in a couple of days. You seem loose, are you that confidant, or since Coach Pill left practice early are you just taking advantage?”

Baba leaned down to Jamal’s microphone and let out a big belch. He said, “We’re ready! Hello Houston.”

Cory said, “Bye, everybody.”

Warren said, “You’ve been listening to A Piece of the Afternoon Sports Talk Radio Show on KSPORT, Houston and KLAID, Los Angeles. Good luck in the playoffs Clampett fans, not that you’ll need it!”

Albie took the show to commercial. Jamal, Baba, and Cory left the press box, Orbitor in hand. They stopped by and said something to Albie. Warren watched as Albie completed the transition back to the next show for both stations. She them grabbed her purse and left with the boys. Warren stood, stretched, and began to pack up the gear.

 

Warren sipped his double lunar latté while sitting at a computer in the Colonial Airlines Terminal at L.A.’s Kevitch Airport. He was about to sign on when he was enveloped by the sweet smell of Chanel number 5. Something very soft pressed against the back of his head and he turned around in his seat. Yasmine took his head in both hands and pressed his face into her breasts. She pulled him away from her after a moment and said, “Good morning.”

“Where’s Louis?” asked Warren as leaned back in his chair to try to put some space between himself and Yasmine.

“I didn’t hear any fire alarms,” said Yasmine, closing the space between them, doing a 180 degree turn and slowly lowering herself onto Warren’s lap. She wrapped her arms around Warren’s shoulders and leaned her head down to put her lips on his.

“Good morning, uh, a, Warren. Good morning ah, uh, Yasmine. I see you are trying to take advantage of the moon being in your eighth house.”

Warren pushed Yasmine to her feet and turned to the computer.

“Maybe you two could play in the sandbox together for a while. I need to answer some mail.”

Yasmine leaned over and whispered in Warren’s ear, “One way, or another, I’m gonna getcha getcha getcha gethca getcha getcha getcha.” She licked his neck, nibbled his ear, reached around him and rubbed his chest, straightened and said, “OK, Theotis, let’s go find some bacon.”

 

Warren signed on to F.A.Q., advice for the 21st Century.

 

 

Dear Warhair,

I’m a professional man with an artistic flair. I work in New York where I deal in men’s hair styling, with my specialty being beard trimming. I trim the beards of most of the Metropolitan Opera stars, the nattier of the NFL and ZBA players in New York (The NHL players don’t believe in trimming their beards, they just shave once a week and call it a done deal, the barbarians), the soap opera stars on All My Children, (men and women) and I do charity work in the Village around the NYU campus, setting up a folding metal chair in Washington Park on the weekends.

Last week, just for laughs, I went to a lunchtime stress management seminar. My friend Jerry Mahoney, an editor for ABC Television, invited me. He said they were serving Powerbars and Nomi Juice, so I was in.

The seminar featured a woman in a nice Laura Ashley business suit discussing the stress of banging her head against the glass ceiling, no matter how many fast track executives she banged, a Sushi chef who was stressed because he just knew he was giving one out of twenty customers stomach parasites, and a librarian who was stressed because she had secretly stolen To Kill A Mockingbird from the first library she worked for twenty years earlier, just as a keepsake. Now her cat had peed on it so she could never take it back.

I got so stressed listening to these people I took a BC powder, put Lite FM on my Walkman and read People magazine for the rest of the day.

When I returned to work the next day I found I couldn’t hold my hands steady. I told my customers this was a new technique from the orient to craft a beard that appealed to their desire to be exotic. I did some very interesting beard trims that day.

Gaps, you want gaps? I’ll give you gaps. Angles, you want angles, I’ll give you angles. You’re beard will have dips, holes, burn marks, and look like something inspired by several Kamikazes and a bottle of Johnnie Walker.

Wouldn’t you know, people liked the look! The soap babes especially went for it. They said the guys looked like they’d been on a survival campout. Very rugged, and very sexy, and least once the cuts healed.

My problem is this: The increase in business has caused me a lot of stress, and I missed the part of the seminar where they actually told you how to handle stress, because at the time I was digging in my bag for a joint. Could you tell me where I could get a copy of the DVD?

I’m afraid if I go to another seminar I might lose my newly acquired touch. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!

Babe Royal

 

Hey Babe,

I e-mailed a friend of mine who runs stress management classes for construction workers hundreds of feet in the air. (He’s an ex ironworker who is on permanent disability after a nasty accident involving a Honda Silverwing, a cell phone, and a deer).

He has put together a stress relief package for you. It’s a set of videos called Debbie does Dallas, Debbie does Dallas again, and Debbie does Viagra in Dallas. He assures me this is the same program he employs with the brotherhood of construction workers, and while they may be a little tired after the seminar meetings, the response is overwhelming. The accompanying paperwork can be found at Lovenut.com. Good luck.

 

Dear Warcuff,

I’m a very successful trial judge in a major city in this great country of America. I have a lot of jealous colleagues, especially when they hear about my stock portfolio. I’ve had my own courtroom for two years, six months, three days as of this writing. I exact the truth in my courtroom. I don’t tolerate fruitcakes. Not at all. Another thing I hate is gum chewers. This is my Achilles heel.

I’ve been censured by the superior court for handcuffing three defendants who blew bubbles during a divorce proceeding yesterday. I had just taken photographs into evidence that showed in great detail the infidelities of the wife, and the bursting bubble broke my concentration. How frustrating!

My question is this:

When I attend the mandated anger management classes do I bring the bullhorn I use in my courtroom, or buy a new one, with a more powerful amplification system. Circuit City is having a sale, after all.

Doris Sameri

 

Hey Doe,

That’s some record you have. I’ve got a couple of parking tickets you could help me with. I’ll FedEx them to you along with a book, The Art of Playing Well with Others.

I talked to an attorney friend of mine who went through similar mechanizations when he was drinking heavy and sleeping with his secretary. He recommends, in addition to the mandatory anger management classes, buying a full length mirror and putting it in your bedroom. Every morning before you leave the house stand naked in front of it for a full half hour. Talk to yourself if you want. Drink coffee if you want. After a week of this naked confession therapy you should be on the road to singing Hi-C’s and making harmonious sounds with the universe. Litigate or die, baby!

 

Hey Wartards,

I hesitate to write you, but my lover tells me to use an anonymous name, get over myself, and ask for help.

I am a professional skater, twenty years old, operating at the top of my skating game. I have a wonderful partner, a 19 year old babe who I can lift into the air with one hand. We’ve both become citizens of Elbonia so we can represent them in the Olympics this year. The competition isn’t as fierce, and they have a great housing program for their Olympic athletes. Practices are going great, but I have been distracted lately by a nagging desire to change my life after seeing Skates of Gold. I really feel strongly about this…I think the Olympics should have a category for men’s pairs!

Imagine the power and grace of two men skating an ice dancing program. The heights you could throw a man in the air!!! The speed we could skate!!! No more clumsy hand grips trying to avoid those weird female body parts!!! My problem is this: Do you think after a winning gold medal for best male ice dancing team I’ll still get to wear the Mickey Costume is Disneyworld on Ice?

Bruno Rich

 

Hey Bruny,

You could BE the Olympic flame, pal. I’ve contacted a teacher I know who spent the summer of ‘98 experimenting with an alternative lifestyle as a prelude to getting married, having several children and entering into his own dry cleaning business.

He couldn’t offer any help, but he got a hell of a kick out of your idea.

What you need is a proposal. I sent you a top-secret e-mail list of gay Olympic officials, also available on Smoking gun.com. At the very least you’ll be able to network for that day when you need to know things like where to get low cost Abacor, Viagra, and Louis Vitton luggage. Good luck. Pleea Pleea Pleea.

 

Dear Warrensky,

I’ve got a nice life here in the motherland. I’ve got my people. The key these days to living in Russia, not that you need to know, is to have your people. If you can afford it, and I can, you hire people to stand in those long interminable lines in the freezing weather and the damp nights for all the things you need, except the Mercedes. You go get that yourself.

As I write you now the wind is howling outside my Anderson thermal pane windows. The snow is piling up faster than the ZBA’s games on cable television, but I don’t worry. I hear the sound of my Toro tractor snow blower keeping my driveway clear, a service I pay for with 100 rubles and six grain fed chickens a week. That Natashy, she’s a good woman.

My problem is this: I need more of those Los Angeles Clampetts stacking dolls. The kids are crazy about them. My factory here has shifted to producing fake Diplomas for the University of Georgetown. Thanking you in advance! I have learned a lot about opportunism from your country!

Lonesky Romanoff

 

Comradsky,

My connections in the black market are all in Aruba this weekend for a scuba diving class with Miss February and the Olson twins. Apparently they got an excursion package.

When they return, I’ll turn this little project over to them. They’re always looking to make new friends in exotic places, and they rarely take more than a 75% commission!

Good luck, and держать выщипывание , что цыпленок!

 

 

Warren became aware of a conversation close behind him. He signed off F.A.Q. and turned to find three uniformed Houston police officers standing three feet away speaking to Jamal.

“I’m tellin’ ya’ll, I don’t know where the dude is. I saw him yesterday, and he was going to get wet with some Clampett girls.”

“Do you expect him to meet you here today?”

Warren stood up and walked away from the group. When he was 100 yards away, Warren dialed his Nokia.

“This is Louie.”

“Louie, Warren, good morning.”

“Hey babe! Good morning. What can I do you for?”

“The town of Houston is represented at the airport this morning by three uniformed police officers. They want to bag the Wolf. Can you help?’

“I’m on it babe.”

Louie hung up. Warren walked back to the Colonial Airlines terminal to rejoin the posse.

As Warren approached, one of the officers said, “I’ll need to see some i.d., sir.”

Warren said, “Sure. You boys are a long way from home.”

One officer visibly stiffened and said, “You know a guy named Sherman?”

Warren said, “Chinese guy, about five foot two, smells like garlic, loves to bet on the Crockett games when the spread is more than ten points?”

The officer took a step and was nose to nose with Warren. “You’ll want to be careful. Airline food doesn’t agree with me.”

“Do you happen to know a Sergeant Parth Amboy? She’s a personal friend of mine.”

“Read my badge, asswipe.”

Warren took a step back and glanced at the nameplate.

Officer Amboy.

“Brother?” Warren asked.

“Ex.” said Officer Amboy. “How do you know Parth?’

“We’ve shared some personal secrets.”

Officer Amboy was quick for his size. He swung at Warren, connecting with a solid right uppercut, lifting Warren off the ground, and propelling him three feet backwards in the air. Warren landed on his back and immediately rolled to the right as fast as he could until he reached the seats located at the edge of corridor. He grabbed the metal of one of the chairs to pull himself up when the first kick to the ribs arrived. Warren heard a crack and felt a burning sensation in his left side. He continued to pull himself up by the chair brace. He managed to get to his feet just in time to receive another punch in the face. He got his arm up to deflect the next left and countered with a strong right jab, followed by a right left right left combination to the solar plexus of Officer Amboy. The other officers were holding Jamal back. Warren and Officer Amboy faced each other, both breathing heavily. Warren looked at the floor for five seconds, took as deep a breath a possible, and began to back up.

“I don’t want to fight an officer of the Houston police department, and if you stop now, I won’t publish every single piece of lint I can pick up on your past life in the Houston Journal Express.”

Amboy looked over his shoulder at the approaching Kevitch Airport police. “I’ll see you in the Big Town, and you’ll be my bitch.”

“Thanks, but I’ll take a rain check.”

Warren spun and kicked Officer Amboy in the face, and then front kicked him backward toward the now sprinting Kevitch airport police. Officer Amboy pulled his gun and fired a wild shot. A woman screamed. The Kevitch police shouted, “Hold your fire! Put down your weapon!”

Amboy fired again, grazing Warren in the arm.

Warren checked the position of the other Houston officers. They had disappeared.

Officer Amboy turned and began firing on the Kevitch Airport police.

They took cover. An electric luggage cart came beeping up the corridor. Officer Amboy fired cover shots, jumped on the electric cart, shoved the driver to the floor, and accelerated away from the scene. The Kevitch airport officers yelled into their radios. Warren sat heavily on one of the chairs in the Colonial Airlines terminal. Albie Darling ran up to him, breathing heavily.

“Sorry I’m late. Did I cause us to miss the flight again?”

 

Louis sat next to Warren on the leather sofa in the front of the Gulfstream VS-P. “How we doin?”

Warren continued to look out the window as he said, “I’m still breathin’”.

The Gulfstream dropped a few feet. Louie glanced toward the window.

Warren said, “Mean storm.”

Louie looked toward Warren.

Warren said, “Blame it on the thunder.”

“Blame it on Rio. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Hey, Louie,” Warren said. “Thanks for the ride.”

Louie smiled and put his finger on Warren’s arm bandage. “Don’t mention it. No one should get their ass kicked and have to fly commercial all in the same day, babe. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see Sacramento. You know, there is a kind of symmetry at work here. I’m seeing a gold-digger, and we’re going to the site of the California Gold Rush. Ya gotta love it, babe.”

Comments