Cracking Skulls In Portishead by John Cullen - HTML preview

33. CRACKING SKULLS IN PORTISHEAD

Pt Eight

BY Tony M Richards

Los Angeles: Saturday 2nd June 1990.

Jeff Cohen sat in the gardens of The Viewpoint care home, the large ice cubes in his lemonade melting slowly in the dank afternoon heat.....

Jeff was dressed in rich cotton pajamas; his once thick, black curly hair was now a shorn, graying crew cut.

Jeff stared at the melting ice cubes, lost in thought- That's what the doctors thought; it's what his parents would have like to have thought......

Nobody really knew what was going on inside his head- Not even Jeff himself......

He never was the same after the car accident back in England. Doctors had tried everything, but the damage had been done. Jeff was lost...... Somewhere in space and time..... Trapped inside the confine of his own skull......

He could shuffle to the toilet; he could watch television; he could even mumble a few disjointed sentences to request whatever he needed. But that was about it.

Jeff was back in his hometown, he just resided at a different address.

The Viewpoint Care Home is a private nursing facility for those who have lost the ability to take care of themselves. Its where Jeff calls home these days.... Staring out of windows, gazing blankly at a television screen.......

Is anybody home?

Nurse Mendez was approaching, walking down the long, winding pathway:

"Jeff.... The idea is to drink the lemonade..."

Jeff smiled, the sarcastic comment reminding him of somebody from the past. Somebody who was currently waiting for him inside The Viewpoint.

"You have visitors," said Nurse Mendez pushing Jeff back towards his room, up the long, winding pathway; the chair clanking as it moved over the ramp and through the patio doors.

"HEY ASSHOLE! BEEN WAITING FOR YOU FOR LIKE TEN MINUTES!"

Hymie....

Who else?

Jeff was seated, staring at the television set, smirking to himself. He was waiting for the fun to start as it inevitably always did with Hymie.

"YO! MENDEZ! WHAT'S UP WITH THE FUCKIN' STEREO?! I PAID TOP DOLLAR FOR THIS SHIT!" Hymie shouted, banging his fist violently into the cd player."

"It helps if you plug it in, brainiac!" Nurse Mendez sarcastically responded, watching Hymie dance on the spot, shaking his hand in pain.

"FUCKIN' STEREO! GOD DAMN! MY FUCKIN' HAND! SHIT......"

Nurse Mendez plugged in the stereo and identified herself to the tall gentleman that Hymie, as rudely as ever, had forgotten to introduce.

"Antonio. Antonio Richards. I'm a friend of Jeff and Hymies."

Antonio stepped forward to shake Nurse Mendez' hand.

"Oh wow! An English gentleman!" Exclaimed the nurse. "Hymie could use some lessons in manners."

Mendez shot daggers at Hymie, still shaking his hand- His hand clad in his trademark thick gold rings.

"I don't need no fuckin' manners, I need-"

"A personal stylist," Mendez cut in, "an acapulco shirt, slacks, Gucci loafers and waaayyy too much damn gold! Damn! You look like-"

"A PIMP!" Antonio laughed out loud, "he looks like a Las Vegas PIMP!"

Hymie ignored them both. He pulled a cd from the shelf, breaking the case in the process. He inserted the shiny disc into the expensive stereo:

"Jesus Jeff! What's the point in me buying you these records if you don't listen to them?"

Nurse Mendez grabbed the cd case from Hymie:

"Actually Hymie, he does.... Jeff prefers the more mellow selections. REM-"

"WHAAAATT!! REM?!" Hymie spat out, exasperated. "I BOUGHT THAT SHIT AS A JOKE!"

Nurse Mendez slid the case back onto the shelf, and turned to face Hymie:

"So... Did you get them or not?"

Hymie produced two tickets from his shirt pocket. He handed them over:

"Public Enemy. The Auditorium. VIP."

Nurse Mendez nodded slowly, smirking:

"Hmmmm.... So maybe you do have your uses....."

Hymie saw his opportunity:

"So.... What about.... Y'know..."

Hymie cocked his head back, squinting one eye- His attempt at looking suave:

"You and me?"

"What do mean- you and me?" Mendez fired back, knowing damn well what he meant. They had this conversation every time Hymie visited.

"Y'know, you and me.... Dinner, some drinks, maybe a movie....."

"Hymie, you have a different girl every week! Models, trustafarian brats, news readers..."

"News reader? C'mon! What the fuck you talkin' 'bout Jess?..... Ohh, you mean Melanie! The weather girl! Oh! Yeah, that bitch....."

"Nurse Mendez to you! And the reason you go through so many women is because you have no class Hymie! You got a sewer mouth and you wear too much damn gold!"

"She's right Hymie," Antonio chipped in, amused. "She certainly has a point."

Hymie, in denial, was shaking his head:

"The fuck outta here... These girls can't handle my-"

"I'll leave you boys to it," Nurse Mendez said, cutting him off once again. "Any tobacco should be smoked at THE BOTTOM of the garden. Keep the other guests happy, keep Dr Hudson happy...."

"Sure thing Jessica!" Said Hymie, closing the door and blowing her a kiss.

For the first time. All three were together.

Three brothers. Three friends. Alienated souls, basking in each others company. Jeff looked at Antonio and smiled.

The same smile he used to give Antonio back in Portishead. Before the accident. Before.....

..... Stepping outside, Antonio took in the plush gardens: A large fountain; rose bushes, apple trees; Crisp, white stone work that glowed in the bright Californian sun.

Hymie pushed Jeff down the steep pathway to the bottom of the garden, talking loudly as they passed other patients and guests.

The three musketeers took a seat around the table at the end of the long, sprawling garden.

Hymie was talking a million miles a minute. Antonio couldn't get a word in even if he wanted to. Not that he did. He just wanted to enjoy the moment- Seeing Jeff again... His soul brother.

Hymie pulled a bottle from a brown paper bag- The Port Of Saint Louis:

"Glasses! Shit! We're gonna need glasses!"

Hymie darted off up the pathway like a greyhound.

For the first time in eight years, it was Antonio and Jeff.... Alone...

An awkward silence. Two painful minutes passed, Antonio was at a loss for words. "How have you been?" He eventually asked, making no eye contact with Jeff.

The Jeff he knew was gone. Long gone. Somehow, Antonio felt no sadness; life moves on; nothing stays the same.

"I.... Am.... Well. How.... Are....You?" Jeff slowly responded.

"Yeah, Jeff. I'm-"

"FUCKIN' ASSHOLE ASKED ME WHAT THE GLASSES WERE FOR?!" Hymie interrupted, slamming the glasses down on the table. "SHIT! WHERES THE FUCKIN' SODA POP?!"

"By your feet Hymie," said Antonio, pointing to the ground.

Hymie poured three drinks, babbling about an altercation with David Bowie at the MTV awards in Vancouver, the previous September.

Antonio observed Hymie pull something out of shirt pocket: A hash pipe.

Hymie blathered on to Jeff, packing the pipe with green buds, broken up by his gold plated fingers:

"So, I just hit him! I just fucking socked him the fuckin' head!"

Antonio was fascinated by the pipe. Its seemed to be made from some sort of wood or dark metal; a short pipe connected to a round, deep chamber. The wooden chamber itself was modelled to look like a skull. Two red stones had been placed in the eyeball sockets. They glistened in the Californian sun.....

Antonio saw a certain darkness in it....

A skull?

Why a skull?

On a hash pipe?

What did the skull represent?

What did it Convey?

Were the original smugglers of cannabis under extreme danger if caught? Where they dangerous individuals? The skull representing their ruthlessness and taste for extreme violence?

Was the skull a symbol for the head? The cannabis distorting and warping the mind for recreational uses, twisting reality into something fun, unlike trauma, when the reality is twisted, but yet real...

Completely real....

A horrible buzz that is ever lasting......

The skull looked like the statues Antonio had seen whilst he was trapped underneath the lighthouse.

The skull was haunting, not just a reminder of the lighthouse, but what it could represent. The skull was big.

A big head......

........From a head shop?

Hymie's eyes were focused on the chamber as he recounted another tale to Jeff:

"So theres this rapper dude I know outta New York.... White guy...."

Hymie pulled out his large, gold lighter:

"The Rugged Man..... This guy is crazy as batshit...."

The flame from the solid gold lighter was pulled down into the chamber as Hymie clamped his lips around the pipe and inhaled, making the buds crackle as they burned. He pulled the smoke deep into his lungs, tilted his head back, talking strangely as he held in the smoke:

"This dude....... He..... Got his cock..."

Hymie exhaled deeply, coughing:

"...Out on stage. Man, the crowd went nuts. He the illest motherfucker I've ever seen..." Antonio was still staring at the pipe. Transfixed on it- Mesmerized....

It had jogged his memory:

CRACKING SKULLS IN PORTISHEAD.

That was what Tobey n Terry used to scrawl on the shitty phone boxes back in Portishead. To Antonio it seemed like so long ago.

Almost like an eternity ago......

The lighthouse had caused Antonio to forget what had been good about Portishead....

.......... The chip shop- With the smell of grease and vinegar, so welcoming on a cold coastal night.......

The local pub- Filled with cheap lager; plumes of cigarette smoke; local gossip; a shit jukebox with the Bay city Rollers on it....

...... The hospital- Grey walls; sweet teas; freezing cold from September to early March......

PORTISHEAD.

A million miles away..... In time....

As Antonio sat in the warm Los Angeles sun, he went deeper into thought, Hymies words fading into the background. Antonio was thinking about space and time; about the earth floating in space; about time flying by us, disappearing into nothingness; he was thinking about 1982. Portishead.

Gone forever.

He lamented to himself that it was probably best left in the past.

"...... So, what happened next right.... Jeff you aint gonna believe this! She just gets her-"

Antonio faded back out from the conversation again, dreaming of a plane, dreaming of escape and-

"HEY! FUCKO! WAKE UP ASSHOLE!!" Hymie bellowed, passing the hash pipe to Antonio.

Antonio shook his head, lifting his drink and removing his baseball cap. He rubbed his hand across his bald scalp. He could feel sweat.... On top of skin that was never previously exposed to natural elements.....

Antonio drained his glass. Hymie poured out yet more booze. A light, dizzy feeling overcome him.

He felt good! Antonio was simply basking in the sun, watching Hymie and Jeff talk. His two favourite people- His only real friends, bar Ellenor.

"Hey Jeff man, check out Tony's new duds," Hymie laughed, commenting on Antonios new look.

"Now he looks like a basketball throwing ape from Compton!"

Jeff stared ahead, smiling in acknowledgement of Hymies sharp jibe.

Hymie packed the pipe again, blasting the chamber with his lighter:

"Shit! That's the shit right there! That's the shit......."

Antonio watched the freshly exhaled smoke float upwards into the atmosphere.....

"Serious Tone, you look good man. I'm kinda glad you dropped the mormon fuck look. The only thing....."

Hymie always had 'the only thing'....

"....You need some Adidas brah. All black folks rock Adidas, including me! Gotta hook up a jacket or shirt or something....."

Antonio turned in his chair to observe Jeff. He'd aged and gone grey. So had Antonio....

"Hows it going fella?"

Jeff stared ahead, nodding slowly:

"Good. I'm feel-ing... Ok-ay T-Tony."

"Shit Jeff! That doc is really helping your speech! I thought all that speech therapy was a bunch of BS! Shit! Maybe we should get Tony some!" Hymie commented, coughing out a cloud of smoke and thumping his chest with his fist.

The three of them laughed and for once, Antonio felt a strange inner peace he hadn't felt....

Ever.....

Hymie talked on and on....

NFL.....

Blow jobs.... Music....

Jeff and Antonio basked in his words, watching him drink and blast his hash pipe like a true pro......

Nurse Mendes walked down the pathway, to the bottom of the garden:

"Sorry to break up the party, but dinner will be served in an hour." "So?" Hymie Responded.

"The partys over asshole! Jesus! You guys stink of pot!"

Hymie stood up, sticking his the pipe in his mouth theatrically.

Nurse Mendez wasn't amused:

"If Doctor Hudson finds out you smoke pot in these gardens, he will not be pleased-"

"Fuck him!" Hymie interrupted, "you know the amount of money my uncle puts into this place?!

Paying crazy bills for Jeff?! Shit! I should be able to whip my dick out whenever I feel like it!"

"Well you can't! And Mr Cohen has expressed his dissatisfaction with you visiting. He thinks you're a bad influence," retorted Nurse Mendez.

Hymies mouth dropped open with shock- For once he was lost for words. It took him a full ten seconds to regain his composure:

"What?! Mr Cohen?!! Are you fucking kidding me?! You mean Michael?! How much you wanna bet he checks the bill every month with a fine tooth comb?! Get's his crumby ass accountant to go through every detail! Shit! This asshole makes Jews look like the mean, money grabbing  assholes they really are!"

Jeff broke into a quiet chuckle.

Nurse Mendez bent down, addressing Jeff:

"This guy makes you laugh, huh?" Jeff nodded.

"This is exactly what your father is talking about! A bad influence!"

Nurse Mendez then turned to Hymie:

"Shall I push or you?"

"Yo, Jeff! We gotta run, this asshole got a plane to catch," Hymie mumbled, crunching a couple of ice cubes between his teeth. "Our man is heading to Argentina..."

The congregated crowd of four moved up the pathway through the garden, through the patio windows, back onto Jeff's room.

Hymie grabbed a bag from the bed; a bag he brought him with when he arrived:

"Mendez! Make sure Jeff gets these. Don't let Michael confiscate this shit.... Don't snitch to the bad guy."

"Mr Cohen has expressed his view on Jeffs candy consumption. He thinks the-"

"FUCK MICHAEL! FUCK WHAT HE THINKS! JUST GIVE JEFF THE MOTHERFUCKIN'

CANDY! NEVER MIND 'MR COHEN'!" Hymie boomed out. "HE'S A FUCKIN' ASSHOLE! GOD DAMN COCKSUCKER........."

"Mr Cohen has made a sizable donation to the care centre. He's respected and looked upon fondly. In particular by Dr Hudson," replied Nurse Mendez, keeping her cool and switching on the television set.

"WHAT?!... YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME?! HOW MUCH WAS IT?! I'LL DOUBLE IT TO PISS THE GUY OFF!" Hymie replied, breaking into a devilish grin, flashing imaginary money with his fingers.

Nurse Mendez tried not to smile, folding her arms:

"You have ten thousand dollars just... Floating around.... Huh?"

"You betcha sweet ass I do!" Laughed Hymie, turning to Antonio and Jeff. "C'mon asshole, you gotta a plane to catch. Laters Jeff.... Send my regards to Mr Cohen."

The party was over.

Jeff could still hear Hymie as he walked down the hallway, loafers clunking down the polished  floor, talking at the top of his lungs.

The tv blared away in the background, a game show was in full swing, beamed across the country to millions.

Jeff was disinterested.

He turned his head to face the window.

Jeff felt the loneliness he'd felt many times before and for a long time since. He gazed through the glass.

Outside the window, the sun was setting on Los Angeles, the sky turning a dark red. Jeff stared out of the window, taking in the same view he saw everyday........ A cold winter night. Portishead. November. 1982.