Porn Valley- Cop cars and Sardos are like rain and umbrellas. And there were a bunch of 'em in the lot last not. Not because Brian was up to his old tricks and punching out Tony Sexton. But because a guy capped himself. Yeah, you heard that right. Bought a one-way ticket to Palookaville right outside of Sardos. Early in the evening as I heard it. The crime scene was the ATM machine adjacent to the karaoke palace and cops were all over it like bill collectors on Mike Tyson.
Wankus, who's back to hosting karaoke and wearing Travolta disco hand me downs from Saturday Night Fever, says he heard about it and was tempted to call me but didn't. Figured the news might set some people off. Stiffs have a funny way of doing that.
The only reason I was there that early and caught the sideshow was to grab a little dinner, DK telling me he was coming in early so I could interview some of his new girls. Figured I'd eat first, talk later. Except the dead guy showed up. DK didn't. Comes in two hours later, though, when the place is starting to resemble a Volkswagen with ten occupants. DK shrugs his shoulders indicating that girls being girls, they were late, putting on their makeup as it were. I shrug my shoulders indicating that journalists being journalists, I won't interview them - for standing me up, as it were.
Seymour, the manager is wearing a face like the cable company shut off his premium channels, telling me the dead guy had been a customer at Sardos for years. Seymour had just spoken to him. Three minutes later the guy's a grim stain on the sidewalk. Owned a plumbing company or something like that. No more ass crack jokes. The cops are talking to the plumber's girlfriend who broke up with him three months earlier. She's in the bar having one for the road. Somebody hugs her.
Other than that, the beer's pretty cold and the prime rib's tasting good tonight. Two reasons alone for not taking yourself out I'm thinking. A good shit in the morning gives you a third.
I'm recreating the event in my mind. Back in the days when I covered a police beat, saw this stuff all the time. Saw bodies reduced to the consistency of ground beef. Imagining to myself if a movie were made of this, what would be the soundtrack. My Sharona. Thinking to myself, okay, Wankus, make a song parody out of this one, Wankus telling some guy in the audience he'll give him free porn if he can name three of the sex chicks in the house. I'm hearing that some mainstream guys want to make a documentary of porn star karaoke. Dead bodies, fist fights, OD's, Jeff Conaway wearing his heart on his sleeve for Ginger Lynn.
Some guy across from me is telling one of the waitresses she looks like Tara Reid. Real cornball stuff. At Nine Sardos is deader than the guy outside. But customers start pouring in like blood. I'm told Tera Patrick was there. The evening was actually a means to raise more money to get her dog out of hock, some slime ball last week taking it upon himelf to impound the pooch from her truck.
Patrick stays maybe a half hour, leaves. Her eyes are wet. It's not about the plumber.
