05. STUDIO LIGHTS.
Los Angeles: Thursday 24th May 1990.
"WHAT ARE YOU?! A FUCKIN' RETARD?! THAT'S A KIDS MOVIE ASSHOLE!" Hymie.....
He's found me....
My brief case has just slid along the ground, passing my feet by mere inches......
"YOU JUST RAN OUT ON ME?! WHAT KIND OF PUNK BULLSHIT-"
I'm not even listening to this shit- I wish this creep would just disappear...... Buzz off...... What am I saying?! It's Hymie.... I mean....
God bless The Port of Saint Louis.... A very fine liquor of the highest.... Very highest calibre.....
"Jesus Tony! You back on the booze?!"
Yes Hymie.... Yes!.... I'm back on the booze. Now kindly fuck off and play with the traffic.... There's a good lad.......
"Yes Hymie..... Please enlighten me with your thoughts."
Hymie grabs the bottle and takes a huge swig. He says:
"So? You got smokes?"
Do I have time to answer? No.
Nobody does with Hymie. He reaches into my jacket pocket and pulls out the Marlboros I bought in the liquor store.
What was wrong with the term 'off license'?
Why did the Americans never get it? They have to be different in everything. Us English are second string to their blood stained bow...
I ask Hymie:
"A lighter, but no smokes?" I grab the bottle back.
"You ran out of me!" He snaps, and then blowing out a plume of smoke: "Isn't it me who should be asking the fuckin' questions?"
If there's one thing you can't fault about Hymie: It's his ability to shift from the aggressor to the victim in the blink of an eye!
I've barely finished taking another swig and he's snatched the bottle back. He's like a spoilt kid who's been told off by his mummy. He has a strange, sulky pout on his mugg.....
He looks down, inspecting the bottle:
"The Port of Saint Louis?! What the fuck is wrong with you Tony?!"
Here it comes, the world according to Hymie..... The ultimate buzz kill is about to descend upon me.....
I snatch the bottle back:
"You seem to be enjoying my choice of rum.... It's running down your chin Hymie..."
"Fuck you Tony! You owe me a drink! Ditching me with those fuckin' assholes! What the fuck were you thinking?!"
"That's the problem Hymie, I was thinking..."
My head is beginning to feel very light, but the vibes are becoming serious. The poster for the K-9 movie is right in front of me. James Belushi and a dog are looking at me in a quizzical manner- Are they too disgusted by my choice of libation?
The Port of Saint Louis is soothing my soul as it runs down the back of my throat..... So fuck 'em!
Fuck James Belushi! And fuck his over zealous dog!
"Jesus Tone! The port of Saint Louis?"
Here goes....
I put on my Lord Snooty voice and say:
"The Port of Saint Louis...... The very finest rum..... America..... Has to offer....."
"This is the shit trailer park trash drink! Jesus Tony! It ain't like you're broke! The Port of Saint Louis?! What the-"
"I am not accustomed to American Liquor.... Hymie, I've been off the booze for a while... Chill....."
Hymie grabs the bottle back:
"Look, if you're off the wagon then let's party."
If I was sober, I would say:
"Hymie, I need a hot bath and bed."
But I'm drunk off cheap rum, so I say:
"What do you have in mind?"
"Let's hit a bar..... Get some food and strong ass liquor...."
Hymie runs out into the street and stops a cab. The driver rolls down the window:
"NO BRUH! YOU WERE RUDE! NOT AGAIN! NO! NO! NO! NO!"
The driver obviously knows Hymie. He looks Hispanic- And very annoyed:
"NO BRUH! NO CAB! FUCK YOU!"
Hymie pulls out a twenty dollar note; the Hispanic driver grudgingly accepts. I climb into the cab and take in the pungent aroma of bowel movements.
Fucking Hymie.... He hasn't yet climbed inside with me... His crockadile skin loafer is rested on the floor of the cab and the rest of his 5'8 frame is leaning forwards onto the back passanger door. Hymie is precocupied with the K-9 poster. I have no interest in whats caught his attention. I unscrew the cap of The Port Of Saint Louis.......
Before I can finish the last of the rum, Hymie grabs the bottle from my grip and tans the fucking lot of it!
He screws the cap back on the empty bottle......
"Aye yo brah! Are you getting inside or what dude?! Makes no difference to me! Meters running n shit! I get paid no matter what hommie!" The cab driver states, lighting a cigarette and sticking his head out of the window to stare at James Belushi and his over zelous dog.
Hymie ignores the driver and gets into an American football quarter back pose:
"I could have been a great college football player.... I could have gone all the way...."
I'm losing patience:
"Hymie, get in the cab. Let's go."
"I COULD HAVE MADE STATE!" Yells Supermans Worst Nightmare. He launches the bottle up into the air.
I watch it fly high up and then crash into the pavement- Sidewalk. The bottle smashes into a million pieces; it misses a young couple walking along by mere inches.
The young lady is not unreasonably, very angry:
"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM ASSHOLE?!"
Hymie has absolutely no shame:
"PLEASE EXCUSE MY FRIEND! HE'S FROM ENGLAND! THEY HAVE NO CLASS!"
"IT WAS YOU ASSHOLE! I SAW YOU THROW THE FUCKIN' BOTTLE!!"
She inspects the broken bottle, nudging the broken glass with her tennis shoe:
"THE PORT OF SAINT LOUIS?!! ARE YOU FROM A FUCKIN' TRAILER PARK OR SOMETHING?!"
Hymie laughs- Hymie has that laugh. The laugh that cuts like glass. Glass that slices your ball sack open in a pool full of vinegar......
The sneering cackle......
Hymie slams the door shut:
"Drive! I need to you to take us to the lower east side. I'm taking my friend to friendly place."
The driver seems annoyed:
"You show some respect bruh! I'm serious!"
Hymie taps him on the shoulder, reassuringly:
"Hey pal, I'm sorry. No disrespect was intended....."
It's nice to see Hymie seem so humble.... It's an optical illusion:
"Open a god damn window Jose! It smells like somebody cut a fart in here...."