30. THE SAVAGE TWILIGHT
Los Angeles: Saturday 2nd June 1990
After we visited Jeff, Hymie dropped me back at my hotel; I hit the typewriter- Cracked out the last part to 'Cracking Skulls'....
Catharsis? Maybe not......
Yes, it is the truth..... No, my pain is still searing- Burning me alive on the inside....
Hymie has collated all the parts and plans to publish them in one guise or another- Despite me telling him, repeatdly, it's a first draft.....
Hymie....
He has voiced an opinion on the work which is a good sign- Hymie doesn't do compliments. If he brutally critiques it, he likes it. If he hates it, he completely disregards it.
Hymie had much to say, I wasn't listening..... Hymies like a radio- Gotta know when to tune out!
Before the airport, Hymie tells me about Soho, New York- Where his other appartment is: "They got this seafood joint there! Man! You aint tasted lobster like they do in this place!" Hymie throws my luggage into the trunk of his car.
Before we dropped in on Jeff, Hymie insisted on chumming along with me to the barbers; we both got our heads shaved- Hymie got a grade four all over, I went for a Kojack........
"Look at us!" Hymie said. "Two skinhead fucks! Two bald pricks, eh Tone?!"
I suspect the haircut was a strange gesture of solidarity by Hymie- He genuinely feels bad about what went down in Las Vegas...........
It's strange to see him without the trademark peroxide hair; the gold jewelery is still in wonderful effect. He even has a new addition to his wonderful collection:
"Oh, this? Yeah.... It's my Jesus piece. You like it?"
He lifts the heavy chain with his thumb. At the bottom of the chain is what looks like a head- The head of Jesus Christ.....
I inspect it and then ask the question:
"You've converted to Christia-"
"Here we go again! This fuckin' guy!" Hymie cuts in, exhasparated....
"Hymie! It's not unreasonable, all-"
"Every Time! This asshole gotta piss on my motherfuckin' parade!"
He bangs his hand on the dashboard:
"Why can't they just let a brother live man?!"
I concede defeat:
"It's lovely Hymie.... Really nice..." His face breaks into a boyish grin:
"Yeah babeeey!! Got it from this jeweller called Mushroom Head. He has the best gold you could ever imagine-"
"Why is he called Mushroom Head?" I interrupt.
"Does it fuckin' matter?!" He responds, agitated I cut him off mid-flow, "this asshole gotta a big afro. Anyway-"
I'm not listening anymore. I'm just watching Hymie talk, smiling as he flexes his Jesus piece. He looks like a pimp now, more than ever!
I know who Mushroom Head is- I bought a gold cup from his shop in Los Angeles. I got the card from the coffee table in Hymies place. Inside his shop, he had a lot of flashy stuff- Rings, chains....... He had a gold chalice with 'PIMP' engraved on it. Four thousand dollars- I had to get rid of the dirty money. The last link to Super Mario and the dead Cowboy......
Mushroom Head laughed when I mentioned Hymie:
"Oh shit! That white dude? The pimp right?"
Even Mushroom Head thought Hymie was a pimp!
When we pull into a petrol station, Hymie jumps out, asking if I want anything.
"Not for me."
As Hymie goes to the clerk to pay, I drop the surprise in his glove box.... And remove the guns.......
I wrap the shooters in an old, discarded, Burger King paperbag from underneath my seat......
I exit the car and dump the bag in a bin- Best place for it! Rubbish never leaves the dump!
Hymie has, what looks like, a big silver sausage in his hand. He violently tears the foil wrapping open, pulling a long sandwich out.
He's a picture! Shoving the sandwich into his gob! Cheeks full to capacity! Sauce bursting out of the sandwich and onto his tasteful shirt!
"FUCK! SHIT!" He mumbles with his mouth full, scooping the sauce up with his fingers and smearing it the side of his seat...
.... Los Angeles royalty......
As we arrive at the airport, a strange expression I haven't seen before comes over Hymie- Sadness.....
He turns to me:
"You sure about this brah?"
What is he talking about? Fucking Hymie......
"About what?" I counter.
"South America...."
For the first time I can see he really doesn't want me to leave. So much has happened over such a short space of time; another spool recorded, only to errode inside our hollow heads.....
"Hymie, stop being a prat..... I need a break from life for fucks sake!"
Hymie breathes in deeply:
"We got good ass doctors in Los Angeles! We got ass good doctors in New York!..... All this shit is in your head Tone! You're traumatised brah! You don't need to fly away to get that shit taken care off! Shit! Look..... Stay with me......"
Now I see it- The real Hymie.... The man, not the myth......
"Is this the new, sensitive Hymie I see before me?" I chide, provoking a response.
"Fuck you!" He spits, then composing himself:
"You're closer to me than anybody.... I saw you...."
He stops suddenly. Unsure whether or not to continue:
"I saw you...."
"Go on...." I respond, hanging on his words. He says nothing for a moment......
He just stares out of the window as the overcast sky turns to night. We sit in silence..........
Then he continues:
"I saw you talking to the mirror.... You were talkin' to the dead kid...."
"Did it frighten you Hymie?"
"Look! Shit! I know you aint crazy Tone! That shit..."
"Go on..."
"I called my Uncle Rahman. He's a shrink..... A fuckin' head doctor in New York n shit....."
"So?"
"Tone..... That shit is called a daylight hallucination. Tone man, I gotta get you some help brah...."
Hymies eyes are welling up, he's choking it back:
"Tone, you step on that plane.... I'm scared you aint coming back. All it will take is a bottle of scotch and a fuckin' handgun...."
He's wiping a tear away:
"Those fucking spic assholes think thats the answer! Handgun and a bottle of whiskey. Fuckin' dumb asses! Jesus, I mean-"
I cut in:
"Don't blaspheme you ignorant Jew bastard!"
Hymie laughs, straightening himself out:
"Look at me! Sobbing like a bitch n shit. Tone... You sure about this?" I am- Hymie knows I am......
We shoot the shit for a while, Hymies making out he's not bothered by my departure- He's a sensitive little prick deep down I suspect.....
What am I talking about.... Suspect!
I know.... Thats Hymie all over! Testostorone and no trousers...... Now I'm at the gate..... Ready for departure. "You're coming back in six months asshole!" It throws me for a second.
What?
"Huh?" I respond.... Unsure...
"What mate?"
Hymie hands me a bottle- I dont need to say what it is. You know......
"Any port in a storm. Get your mind right, then you're coming back. We're gonna head to New York. We'll get an apartment. We will have the best times. The broads in the rotton apple are soo choice......"
I couldn't think of anything worse; I couldn't think of anything better:
"Sure! Make sure you polish your Jesus piece while I'm away."
"Damn straight asshole!"
Now I remember the cup in his glove compartment:
"Hymie! I left you a gift in your glove box."
Hymie looks horrified- Not the reaction I was expecting.
"Shit!" He says, "I only got you a crumby bottle of Port Of Saint Louis....."
He pulls his Elvis glasses from his top pocket:
"Take these."
"I can't take those! Their you favorite glasses! You wear them everywhere! Superman's Worst
Nightmare!"
Hymie pulls a face:
"What the fuck you talkin' 'bout?! I got like four other pairs! Mushroom Head makes 'em for me." I accept his gift- My reminder of Supermans worst nightmare....... My brother.....
...... They say you can't choose your family.......... We embrace.... Then I walk through the gate.
Hymie shouts:
"HEY ASSHOLE!"
I spin around to hear what he wants:
"IF YOU AIN'T BACK IN SIX MONTHS, I'M GONNA COME OUT THERE AND PUT A BULLET IN YA FUCKIN' HEAD PAL!"
An old woman behind me gasps in horror. I reassure her:
"Don't take offense madam..... He's an idiot!" There he goes...... Hymie Cohen.......
Clad in a garish acapulco shirt; electric-blue slacks; crocodile loafers with big gold buckles; heavyweight Jesus piece hanging from his neck- Skull shorn to thick black stubble....
He's walking away, swaggering through the crowd.....
The king of Los Angeles........
I clutch the sunglasses in my hand, holding them tightly....... Hymie Cohen....... Supermans Worst Nightmare.