Devilcountry (22 page)

“Putzie,” God paused again for effect.
  You, sir, are no Charles Bronson!”  God started laughing
hysterically, shoving his face into each porn star. Swirling his head around.
“I’m like hilarious!  I tell the best stories!”  He declared.
 “I LOVE ME!”

 
         
 
Pudgie had an incredibly fake grin up.
 He could fake it.  But for a second Pudgie felt like he was ten
again, with cake on his face.  He could see Tommy Kramer pointing and
laughing.  He Felt ugly and fat at the swim party and willing to play the
fool.  He felt so ugly.  Pudgie paused as the Jacuzzi bubbles blew up
his nose.  His celebrity friend Jason smiled along with God and avoided
Pudgie’s gaze.  Pudgie paused for a moment.  God laughed and did
another line.  Pause. Laughter, giggles.

 
         
 
“So, when are you gonna pass the white?”
Pudgie asked.  Still smiling.  
Still trying to play
along but holding on by a thread.
God looked up from the mirror.  
Right at Pudgie.
 Perplexed.  Nobody had ever
dared such insolence.

 
          
“When
I’m done with it, bitch.”

 
         
 
“You’re done.  Pass the shit over.”
 Pudgie noticed God turn to Jason wanting to know what was up with Jason’s
friend.

 
         
 
Pudgie was still smiling.
 Physically he was still playing the part of the schmoozy guy.  But
mentally something else had taken over.  Something fierce. “Dude, don’t
look at Jason, look at me, pass the white.”  God turned to stone.
 “You think it’s shit anyways. So pass it.”  Pudgie was a master at
poker, and he knew even if he won the hand, God won the game.  

Pudgie knew how to read people.  It was the
one thing he was a master at.  He always knew what a person was after.
 
It didn’t matter who you were, if you wanted something,
anything really
,
Pudgie could figure it out
.
 It was what gave him his edge inside Devilcountry.  This whole town
was set up and based on what someone wants, or what
they
think they want.  Or what they think someone else wants. Pudgie wanted a
career as an actor.  He knew this stoned idiot was not going to be the one
to give it to him. It’s not what God wanted.  He knew exactly why too.
 So Pudgie said fuck it and paused for a moment.  Let the cards that
had been dealt linger for a moment. “You know Lisa was right about you.”

God paused for a moment.  He wasn’t
prepared for Lisa to make her way into the conversation.  He covered
nicely.  “What’d she say?”
As he stared down at the
mirror chopping up an already razor thin line.
 

“She said you were an all right guy but that you
ain’t funny and your poetry sucked.  She showed it to me.   And
in college she would laugh at it with her girlfriend, I forget her name, Roni,
Rooney, something like that...” Steven sat, stone-faced, the plate of coke
being held steady underneath him.  Both girls staring at Pudgie, blank.
 Pudgie knew this guy wasn’t going to do anything for him. In fact, there
was a good chance going into this evening, Steven “GOD” Bergeshwharzz had
already begun the process of blackballing Pudgie completely from any kind of
career in Hollywood.  Anyone who was the apple of Lisa’s eye wasn’t going
to succeed. God would see to that. Pudgie saw his entire career flushed down
the drain before it even began. It was over.  He knew it.  “I’m gonna
do you a solid, God. As a favor to Lisa, the apple of my eye.”  Pudgie
cleared his throat.  This was the best part of the job for him.  
A demonstration of his superpowers.
 “The girl to your
right is Chasey DeVille; she’s had more cock in her than a Roscoe’s Chicken and
Waffles after a Laker game.  The girl on your left is Katie
Surprise,
the surprise is her sizable clitoris and ball sack
she’ll show you later.  And your buddy Jason here, the one you are
considering for the HBO series, is hoping you won’t find out about him banging
Haley, your twenty-one-year-old personal assistant, in your bed. I have the
video.”  
An image of himself as the boy, smiling,
laughing, running with cake.
 
God slain at his
feet.
 “Now pass the white, Steven.”  

God looked over at Katie.  She popped her
hands out of the spa and framed her face.  “Surprise,” she mildly offered
with a half-smile. God placed the mirror down on the deck and lifted himself
out of the Jacuzzi. Walked away. Dripping.  He could have won an award for
the biggest exposed
soft-on
ever witnessed at a
Hollywood party.

Pudgie swam over and grabbed the mirror.
 Did a line.  Everyone else sat there, bubbling, quiet. He became the
toxic force that everyone at the party seemed to repel away from.  Through
continued interaction they put their own careers at risk.
 
Even his friend Jason was horrified and
disgusted.  No one quite knew what to do, frankly.  Call the Police?
There were too many illicit drugs in plain view.  Maybe he’ll get bored
and leave.  No one would speak to him from that point forward.  He
was officially on the outside.

 
         
 
Pudgie finally made it home around
five-thirty in the morning.  He had stayed longer at the party just to
make a point.  He walked around with his shirt off.  Staring at
people.  Growling at them as they walked past.   Grabbing drinks
away.  Taking every drug he could get his hands on. Searching for cake.
 
Images of
The New York Post
flashing in his
head.
 Finally after vomiting on the crisp white tiles in the
guesthouse he walked off into the Hollywood Hills in search of a cab.  His
last words to all who listened were, “GOD IS DEAD!”

He heard the phone ringing.  But Pudgie,
still asleep, was yelling
at God, saying, “I’ll never answer
to you, never
!!”  He came to and realized it was probably Jason
demanding an apology.  He was reluctant to answer.  He finally picked
up the phone, ready to deal with the fallout.

WAKE THE FUCK UP!

A
cold, hard crack slammed my face.  I was having this crazy dream where I
was delivering a pizza to my boss, the MILF-Y actress and her boy-toy, and they
got me drunk, then she came on to me, but we fell asleep in each-other’s arms
without any type of inappropriate sexual advances by either of us.  Then a
big, plaid dolphin came swimming by and whispered Einstein’s principles of
light versus wave theory and how time and space have mass and can be bent,
therefore it is entirely possible that TV could have sent you messages to go
back and reclaim your past through the accomplishment of good deeds in the
present, thus causing a rippling effect so that others are affected as well, Oh
look a fish…

SMACK! KAPOW!!  I tasted blood in the back
of my throat.  Einstein got on his bike and said, “I’ll come back later.”

 
         
 
My whole face began to sting and I was
awake, but I couldn’t get my eyes open because they were swollen shut.
 Then I realized Gino had awakened before me and saw Carin curled-up in my
lap with my hand in her hair.  And hilarity ensued…

Gino grabbed me by my shirt and lifted me up off
the couch with Carin still in my lap and pummelled my face.  She fell to
the floor.  “I’m gonna beat your face in, you piece of shit!” He threw me
back down to the couch and came at me with another right.  Before I had
time to brace myself, Carin had reached up with her left hand and smashed her
fist around his nuts.  The thousand-foot-pounds of pressure she applied to
his testicles made him crumble and sink.  “MY NOODLES!” He yelped as his
knees buckled and he fell face-first into the couch, his head deep into my
crotch. It was not the ideal fantasy for me, but at least my face wasn’t being
mutilated.

 
         
 
“Gino, you asshole, I will mail you your
balls.”

Carin
held on tightly as Gino screamed into my lap.  She slowly began to
relinquish her grope on his coke bottle.  Gino lifted his head.

“Jesus, Carin, I was protecting your honor!”

She
tightened her grip.  He screamed.  I tasted blood.

 
         
 
“Not only will I mail you your balls, but
your final check also. Now get out!”  She let go completely.  Gino
retreated.  
Jumped back, knocking himself over the
coffee table, spilling the garbage from last night and the bong water all over
the place.

 
         
 
“Oh, so that’s how it is?  Fine?
 I don’t need you.  I thought we had somethin’, you know…special…
an’
shit.  I pass out and you’re like all over him...
slut.…”
Carin faked another move towards his balls.
 Gino flinched.

 
         
 
“Get out, Gino.”

 
         
 
“FINE!
 
And I expected more from you...Craig,” I
couldn’t believe my ears.  “Honestly, Craig, I thought we were
paisan
.
 You know?  Bros before hos!”  My mouth gaped open.  He
used my name in a sentence!  For the first time, Gino used my name in a sentence!
I wanted to hug him and kill him all in the same moment.  Had he known my
name all along?   It was a strange victory.
Still,
a victory nonetheless.
 

Gino raised himself up, dusted himself off and
began his exit.  It took ten minutes for him to locate and put on his
ultra-tight skinny jeans.  
Another ten to find his shoes
and wallet.
 The whole time he was cussing, shouting, swearing,
exiting, re-entering, exiting again, pocketing spare change, stealing an
ashtray, grabbing leftovers, using my name no less than three times, while
promising to find me and kill me. In all honesty, I was thrilled.  They
say you’re no one until somebody loves you but for me you’re no one until
someone uses your name in a sentence about wanting to kill you.  Finally
he had stuffed enough jewelry and petty cash into his pockets, had cursed
enough times and was gone.

 
         
 
Carin searched around for something.
 “Where did I leave it?  Oh here it is.”  It
lay
undisturbed under one of the couch legs.  She grabbed it up and held onto
it like a crucifix. She brought it to her chest and squeezed at it hard.
 She looked around for a moment, confused.  Sober.

Carin and I were now alone.

LISA’S IN TROUBLE

“SUCK
IT!” Pudgie screamed into his prepaid cell phone.

“Pudgie?”

 
         
 
“What time is it?”

 
         
 
“I don’t know, early.”

 
         
 
“Ugh.” Sensing the worst, his tone
softened as he realized he was speaking to Lisa.  Silence. “Lisa?”

 
         
 
“Oh God, Pudgie... I think I majorly
screwed-up.”

 
         
 
“Look, I’m sorry about that agent guy, he
was just such a dick,” Pudgie said.

 
         
 
“...Can we meet please?” Lisa sounded
like she had been crying.

 
         
 
“Look, I said I was sorry,” Pudgie
offered back.

 
         
 
“I’m in Victorville.”

 
         
 
“Is that a place?”

 
         
 
“Yes.”

 
         
 
“Is this important?”

 
         
 
“I drove out to Victorville last night.”

 
         
 
“There’s no award for that.”

 
         
 
“It’s so bland here.  Not even a
Starbucks.  Let me give you directions and you meet me here, okay?”

 
         
 
“But, uh…okay,” Pudgie relented.
 She gave him directions to the ass-end of the world.  He hung up the
phone.  Pudgie had no idea what was happening.  He decided to just go
with it as he was taught in his acting class.  He got dressed in old
surfer shorts, an Ed Hardy T-shirt that said “Talent” on the pocket, and his
prized flip-flops. He tried to eat something, although his body wasn’t very
receptive, threw on sunglasses, and headed out in the Mercedes he had bought
from Mickey Rourke.