My Greatest Honor
03/27/2023 06:30pm
“Yeah, but what is love anyway?” I said.
“Howard Jones attempted to answer that very question.”
I was talking to Luis Guzmán, the world famous motion picture star (and People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” – nine years in a row!). We were standing by the buffet table at the Celebrity and Less Exceptional People Awards banquet. If you are unfamiliar, the annual ceremony, held each year at the Howard Johnson’s Motor Lodge in Lake Charles Louisiana, is the brainchild of Paris Hilton and Taylor Swift. Consistent with the altruistic motives on which they built their careers, Ms. Hilton and Ms. Swift sought to give a select group of us sub-bourgeois types the once-in-a lifetime opportunity to be celebrated alongside famous actors, musicians, athletes, reality tv stars, social media influencers, and other people of actual significance. Earlier in the evening, Luis Guzmán had presented me with the award for “Tiredest Boy in the Whole World.”
“Howard Jones don’t know shit,” I told Luis Guzmán.
“Oh come on man, don’t be hatin’ on Jonesy. He had a lot of wise advice.”
“Like things can only get better? You just know that ain’t true.”
“Well, guess you’re right there,” Luis Guzmán said. “Hell in a handbasket. But you gotta admit, ‘don’t live your life in one day’ – that’s some good-ass advice.”
“That was his old man’s advice, not his. He just repeated it in a song.”
“No, it was ‘an old man’ – not ‘his old man’. He sings ‘the old man said to me, said don’t take things so seriously -“.
“Even better. Some random old fuck told him some bullshit he pulled out of his dementia-ridden ass and we’re suppose to adopt it as a life-fucking philosophy?! Fuck that! You should try to live your life in one fucking day. Every day! And no, you won’t go speeding your time away. If you don’t drop dead, you’ll get to live many lives in many days. But if you don’t, you may be throwing it all away, never getting to live a complete life and do all those things you’ve always wanted to do.”
“I got you, I got you,” said Luis Guzmán, “Carpe diem.”
“Huh?” I said.
“Seize the day,” he said.
“Exactly! And it’s not just that you may drop dead. You might become crippled or retarded or imprisoned in your own home. Who knows when they’ll be locking our stupid asses down on account of another pandemic?”
“True dat,” Luis Guzmán said, “Lockdowns suck.”
“Hmmm,” I said.
“What?”
“I kind of thought you Hollywood types were all pro-lockdown.”
“Well yeah, for average people like you,” Luis Guzmán explained, “But, when you’re a world famous celebrity like me, lockdowns can be devastating. As a celebrity, your whole purpose in life is to bring hope to the masses, give people like you a reason to live. Hell, if it wasn’t for many of us in this room tonight, your life would be pretty meaningless and you may as well have died from COVID anyway.”
I guess I couldn’t argue with that one.
“We have an obligation to put ourselves at risk – for the greater good,” Luis Guzmán said. “It’s the price you pay for fame and fortune and being better than everyone else.”
As I took a sip from my Diet Mr. Pibb, I scanned the joint, taking-in all the famous celebrities who were there. It seemed as if all of Tinsel Town was packed into that 1200 square foot function room with me – Tom Cruise, JLo and Ben Affleck, Serena Williams, Harrison Ford and Short Round, the dude who played Dwayne Wayne on NBC TV’s A Different World, and many, many others. As I concluded my survey of the room, I noticed Eddie Murphy sitting at a table by himself, looking real sad. Earlier in the evening he had been going around the room shaking all the winners’ hands, congratulating them. His voice was soft and frail and he didn’t look anybody in the eye. It was certainly a contrast from the whacky, wild characters he played in movies like Best Defense and The Klumps.
“Man, that Eddie Murphy is sure a gloomy Gus in real life,” I told Luis Guzmán.
“He’s a good guy,” Luis Guzmán told me, “He just ain’t been right lately. His girl, you see, she likes to party all the time.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah. He just can’t understand it – why she wants to hurt him. She’s always out romancing all night. Poor Eddie just wants her to bring some love home to him.”
“Damn. Poor fella.”
Just then, the buxom red-head who played Joan Holloway on AMC Network’s Mad Men came over and said “Hi I’m the buxom red-head who played Joan Holloway on AMC Network’s Mad Men.” She then looked over at Luis Guzmán and said “Luis,” and he nodded his head.
“Great to meet you,” I said, “and congratulations on your award. Well deserved.” She had won for “Best Breasts in a Comedy or Musical”.
“Why thank you,” she said with a grateful smile. “I was actually coming over to congratulate you on your award. And to tell you that I wish to make love to you.”
“Well your wish is my command,” I said.
“Great! Why don’t we head-on up to my room.”
“That sounds splendid.”
“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve invited Kylie Jenner and Latin pop sensation Camila Cabello to join us.”
“No, not at all. As they say, two’s company, three’s a real pleasure – ”
“And four will blow your fucking mind,” Joan said.
“Yes, I reckon it will,” I said.
“You’re not too tired though, are you?” Joan asked, “You are the tiredest boy in the whole world after all.”
“Well I am very tired,” I said, “But I think I’ll be just fine. I’ll just need a long nap afterwards”.
“Well a bed does have more than one use,” she said.
“Indeed,” I said and turned to Luis Guzmán. “Luis, good talking to you.”
“You too brother. Have fun.”
Joan wished Luis Guzmán a goodnight and escorted me to room 236. Kylie Jenner and Latin pop sensation Camila Cabello were waiting in the bed, watching an episode of The Days & Nights of Molly Dodd on the 19 inch color television – one of the many amenities offered during a stay at the Howard Johnson’s Motor Lodge.
“Girls – he’s here!” Joan announced excitedly as we entered. They both turned their glances from the TV and leapt out of bed to greet me.
“Hey there handsome,” Kylie whispered into my ear as she caressed my shoulders and arms
“Hi there,” I said.
“I erit fruar te penetrans vaginam meam,” said Latin pop sensation Camila Cabello, moving closer to me.
“E pluribus unum,” I said, uttering the only words I knew in her language.
“Quid?” she asked in a confused voice.
“Ei ignosce,” Kylie said to her, “Stultus est autem sed phallus praegrandem est.”
“Ego certe spero sic,” said Latin pop sensation Camila Cabello with a giggle, which made me think they were making fun of me. But then Kylie explained otherwise.
“She said she was very impressed with your attempt to speak her language and how everybody else she sleeps with is so stupid compared to you.”
“Gosh,” I said, “that’s the nicest thing a beautiful woman has ever said to me.”
“All right everyone, enough of the small talk,” said Joan, “We have love to make.” She then switched the alarm clock to radio mode and we all undressed each other to a Marvin Gaye song before commencing a long and passionate night of sensuous lovemaking.
After several hours of administering previously unknown pleasures to Joan, Kylie, and Latin pop sensation Camila Cabello, I fell into a very deep sleep – as I am prone to do (being the tiredest boy in the whole world and all). In my slumber I had a dream, I had an awesome dream. There was a grand theater by the park, my name on the marquee lit up the dark. And in that theater was me, on stage, singing, the adoring crowd all standing and dancing and singing along. I was dressed in all bright orange, my hair unkempt and fashioned in a mullet that was dyed the same color. I looked like a real fucking idiot. “Woh-woh-woh, woh-oh-woh,” I sang, my backup singers echoing it back to me. I swayed my arms back and forth, intermittently clapping, dancing about, twirling around as I made my way across the stage. The crowd was loving it!
But then, at the height of all the excitement, a great, roaring wind came and blew the roof off the theater. I felt cold, real cold, so cold I shivered. It was starting to snow. There was suddenly a searing pain in my side and back that grew progressively worse and worse. I screamed and it all disappeared – the theater, the crowd, the audience, my stupid looking clothes and ridiculous hair. But not the pain. That was still there. I was lying naked in the bathtub of room 236 at the Howard Johnson’s motor lodge, my body, except for my head, buried under a pile of ice cubes. I was freezing. Blood was mixed with the wet, melting ice. I felt weak and it took everything I had to launch myself up onto my feet and step out of the tub. Looking over to the mirror, I saw black threading running through a wound on my right side. Blood oozed between the stitches.
“What the fuck did you bitches do to me?!” I screamed, but no one answered. Exiting the bathroom, I saw that they were gone, all three of them. On the desk to the right of the 19 inch color television was a note written on Howard Johnson’s Motor Lodge stationery. I felt woozy and it was hard to keep my balance as I held it and read.
Dearest SKANLYN,
Thank you for a night of wonderful sensual delights. The three of us have made love to many hundreds of men in our time but not one of us has ever encountered so skilled a lover as you, nor have our loins ever experienced the sensation of pleasure you were able to deliver so proficiently and so many times during our all-too-short time together. You are truly gifted.
Please accept our apology for having to leave before you awoke. As you are probably aware, time is of the essence when it comes to transporting an organ after extraction. You see, our dear friend Luis Guzmán, the world famous movie actor (and People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” – nine years in a row!) was critically in need of a kidney transplant. Fortunately, the pre-award medical examination you had a few weeks ago revealed you to be a proper match . . .
“Wait a minute!” I thought to myself. I had wondered why they made me get a physical before I got that stupid award. Eventually I concluded that it was to confirm I was the tiredest boy in the whole world. Now I was thinking otherwise. Was this award ceremony all a charade? Were these celebrities merely tricking us common folks into thinking we could be their peers for a night, only to have sex with us and steal our innards after we fell asleep? That was just plain fucked up! Yes, famous people are, without a doubt, more important than us non-famous people and yes, it is more important for them to be alive than us. But the dishonesty of it all was just too much. The level of resentment I felt at that moment nearly eclipsed the terrible pain I was experiencing. I turned back to the note hoping it would explain how wrong I was to be thinking this.
We know you are probably in quite a bit of pain right now and we hope you are not too mad at us. Please know that we truly appreciate your sacrifice and, while you may experience months of discomfort and your lifespan has undoubtedly been shortened, you can take comfort in the fact that you are now, in part, one of us. The next time you are at the movies to see one of Luis Guzmán’s blockbuster films, you will, in a sense, be seeing yourself up there on screen, for you are now an inseparable part of one of the greatest superstars of our time . . .
Wow, I thought, how could I be so damn selfish! Less than twenty-four hours before I had won a prestigious award. I had made love to the buxom redhead who played Joan Holloway on AMC Network’s Mad Men. And to Kylie Jenner. And to Latin pop sensation Camila Cabello. All at the same time. And now I was permanently a part of the world famous movie actor (and People magazine’s sexiest man alive – 9 years in a row!) Luis Guzmán. A part of my body was now living inside him, producing his urine. My anger began to dissipate and I felt a great sense of pride and honor (along with the excruciating pain I was enduring which was becoming much worse). I looked back at the note to read the final paragraphs.
Thank you so much for everything. We will never forget you.
Also, please do get yourself to a hospital as soon as possible. Kylie, being the butter-fingers she is, did spill our one and only bottle of isopropanol and the hotel shampoo we ended up using as an antiseptic was probably only marginally effective at best. It is therefore imperative that you begin taking anti-biotics at once.
With love,
Christina, Kylie, Camila
A red lipstick imprint was stamped below each name.
“Christina?” I wondered, “Who the hell is Christina?”.
SKANLYN 