Wednesday, January 30, 2008

We Three Kings: The Old Man From Brooklyn 

Since I have nothing else to write about at the moment, this month's update will continue with episode 2 of the adventures of three guys named "King." Enjoy. Or not.

Larry walked out of the studio with confidence, with none of the stumbles, trembles, or bent-over posture of most men his age. He wore a black silk shirt, with a vibrant blue tie and matching blue suspenders, a striking color combination that inspired awe among everyone on set. He smiled and nodded to the passing members of the crew, responding "Thanks" to anyone who commented "Good show, Mr. King."

Larry's director Preston, a short, slight, bespectacled man in his late 20's, approached from down the hall as Larry opened the door to his dressing room. Preston still had his wireless headset on, and was carrying a random stack of papers in his right hand. Larry halted his entry and greeted him.

"Hello, Preston. Good show tonight."

"I should be saying that to you," Preston beamed back. "Bill Maher interviews are always great."

Larry nodded. "He's a smart guy, funny. Plus, he's always available when I can't get any actual celebrities."

Preston laughed a little too loudly. "Okay, Larry. Hey, Natalie is looking for you. She wanted to ask you something about the show."

"Tell her I'm in my dressing room."

"Will do," Preston responded, adding a cheerful mock salute. He continued on his way down the hallway.

Larry stepped into his small but comfortably furnished dressing room and closed the door behind him. He loosened his tie and walked over to the liquor cabinet, pouring a shot of Glenfiddich 18-year Scotch and taking it in slowly. He looked himself in the mirror and sighed.

"How much longer can you keep this up, old boy?" he asked himself. His reflection did not respond. Time for another drink.

Just as he began to tip the bottle, the door to his dressing room unlatched and began to open slowly. Larry nearly dropped the bottle as he spun around.

Natalie was a young intern for Larry King Live, a blue eyed, black-haired non-traditional student roughly 30 years old. She wore a rather tight pinstriped power suit with a very non-traditional miniskirt and black silk stockings.

Larry smiled. Young enough to be a fox, old enough to be experienced.

"Mr. King," Natalie began with genuine innocence, "I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the show tonight. I'm so fascinated by the way you conduct your interviews."

"Preston told me you were looking for me," Larry said casually as he lifted the bottle of Scotch.

"And you were going to pour me a drink," Natalie continued as she closed and locked the door. "You sit down and relax. I'll pour us both one."

"Be my guest," Larry replied suavely as he sat down heavily on the pea green love seat in the corner.

Natalie strutted to the liquor cabinet, bending slightly with her derrierre pointed right in Larry's direction. Just as he was enjoying the ample view, a flash (other of course, than Natalie's black silk panties) came to him.

A small tablet broken in the drink. A laugh....the same laugh he remembered from his mission in the Ukraine in 1997. But it couldn't be!

Natalie had just poured the drinks as was turning towards Larry when something knocked the left drink from her hand. The shot glass fell to the floor, unbroken, spilling the exensive whiskey onto the hardwood. Natalie looked up, surprised, to see Larry, standing with one foot on the right arm of the love seat, weilding his left suspender behind his head like a bull whip.

"But, Mr. King, I don't - " Natalie began.

"Don't play games with me, sweetheart," Larry growled. "We've played this game before....Natalya Sedusinska!"

Natalya tilted her head back, laughed her familiar diabolical laugh and then lowered her gaze into Larry's, staring coldly into his soul. His heart skipped a beat, but Larry stood his ground. He began to swing the suspender over his head like a lasso.

"Well, well well, Meester King," Natalya hissed in a Russian accent distinctly different from her earlier voice. "I see you have seen through my little plot."

"You don't even know what I'm capable of," Larry replied, still swinging the suspender.

"I know what you are not capable of....at least without your precious Cialis!"

Natalya kicked her left foot, sending her stiletto heel spinning towards Larry. He ducked and did a somersault off of his hands, just as the heel missed and and embedded in the wall. Natalya kicked her right foot, sending the right heel straight through the uplostery of the love seat. Larry landed on the other side of the room, and whipped off his right suspender, having lost the other one in his tumble.

"Oh, erectile dysfunction jokes should be off bounds," Larry moaned painfully, despite not being visibly perturbed. "It's just too much of a low blow."

"You meesed your opportunity for a blow, Meester King!" Natalya shouted with berserker rage as she ran towards Larry and jumped, hurdling towards him with an outstretched right foot and a kung-fu scream.

Larry let loose with his suspender, snapping it around her foot with a deft throw and tossing her to the closet behind him. She landed with a muffled thud as she knocked over racks of hundreds of suspenders.

"Suspenders!" she hissed. "You and your damn suspenders!"

Larry stared at the tangled Natalya intensely as a high-pitched whine emanated from parts unknown. His eyes grew wider and wider and the sound increased in frequently.

"HA!" Natalya barked. "Does Meester King have the gas?"

The racks on the closet floor started to vibrate as one pair of suspenders after another came to life, moving accross the floor and wrapping themselves around Natalya's extremeties. She attempted to scream, but was cut off by a cheerfull, rainbow-patterened handstitched pair that wrapped around her throat like a boa constrictor. She gagged as she looked to the wide-eyed old man, terrified of what she saw.

"I DIDN'T WANT TO DO THIS," Larry's voice boomed over the frequency, though his mouth was not moving. "BUT YOU HAVE LEFT ME WITH NO ALTERNATIVE."

The rainbow suspenders constricted violently, snapping Natalya's neck as easily as a #2 pencil. The vibration and whine both stopped at once, and Larry collapsed to the floor, exhausted.

"Larry! Hey Larry!" came a shout from outside the door. Suddenly the door flew open with a crack as Preston jumped into the room. The first thought that crossed Larry's mind was how a man so wormy could kick through the door to his dressing room.

"Jesus, Larry, what the hell happened here?" Preston exclaimed as soon as he saw the body in the closet. "Poor Natalie! You kinky old bastard!"

"Not Natalie," Larry muttered as he lifted himself to his feet and brushed off his clothes, immediately looking around for his misplaced blue suspenders. "Natalya. I've dealt with her before, about eleven years ago. She was much younger then, little more than a girl."

"Oh, dammit," Preston sighed as he planted his face into his right palm. "Another spy? This is the third one in the last year!"

"Sorry Preston. You know what you have to do."

"Yeah, sure," Preston replied, exasperated. "Don't tell anyone, hide the body in your rolling suspender cabinet, and wheel it out after the studio is mostly cleared. I should get a raise for this."

"Remind me about that later," Larry said as he took another draft of Scotch straight from the bottle. "I'll see about making it happen."

Preston started out the door, then added: "By the way, have you scheduled either Don King or Stephen King for an interview?"

Larry lowered the bottle and raised his left eyebrow, then his right. "No. Why?"

"They're in the main studio looking for you. I'll tell them to come back later."

"No," Larry said dryly as he placed the bottle back into the cabinet and started working his suspenders back on. "I'll go greet them. You take care of our deceased intern."

"Kinda funny that all three of you are named King, isn't it?" Preston added as Larry started for the door. "With Don and Stephen, I mean."

"Yeah," Larry replied coolly. "Hilarious."

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