Looking back on my illustrious career as a legendary music pioneer I realize that I've made a lot of people happy, pissed a lot of people off and treasured up a veritable cornucopia of memories that grind the ole Nostalgia Machine into high gear. The smoky bars I've played in, the cracking noise of pool balls shattering the delicate intensity of our unique version of "Desperado", the obnoxious banter of friends loudly congratulating each other for drinking beer, the occasional cat fight and the more frequent clashes between inebriated males, the club manager sauntering up to the stage and telling the rhythm guitar player that we've got to "turn that damn shit DOWN!!!"...
Memories galore. More than I can even remember, but the ones that survived the war with cannabis are really swell. And the best of all those memories are the ones starring the many, many women who came into my life as a result of my status as a legendary music pioneer. I'll kick the ass of any man who dares call them "groupies". They were, in the tradition of Cameron Crowe's documentary "Almost Famous", "Band-Aids" (and it is the opinion of every band I've ever been in that Crowe based his film on us).
Today my mind harks back to a winter evening in December of 1981. The group I played with back then was called Chaney Gong (at least that's the band I was a member of in late '81). The show was over and I was relaxing in the back of the Econoline van we used to haul equipment with. The other guys were having a couple more beers before last call. Nobody minded my absence, as they all knew I wanted to freebase some cocaine in private. They were nothing if not considerate.
Our show that night was incredible. We were hot as shit, I tell you, and there was a huge clan of women gathered near the stage. I knew I could...uh..."befriend" any of them I chose to. I figured I'd go back into the bar when I was nice and stoned, look over the potential "friends" and invite them to the Econoline to freebase a little more coke with me.
But I was saved the trouble as, one by one, these three gals came a-knockin' on the door...
She couldn't have been a day over 17. I don't know how in the world she made it into the bar, but she'd been there all night. I remember seeing her throwing darts with a couple of lesbians who were regulars. For that reason alone I had crossed her off my list. But here she was, all tanked up and ready.
"Are you freebasing coke?", she asked.
"Yep, sweetcheekers, that's what I've been doing the last 30 minutes. I'm just about useless, but if there's anything you want, say the word. I can probably git 'r' done."
"Are you sure? It's kind of asking a lot", she said.
"You name it, baby, you got it", I said with a disgusting leer in my eyes. It didn't seem to frighten her though, as she continued...
"Do you think you could loan me $20 cab fare? My ride has done gone off with some guy who says he only wants to have sex with her once before throwing her away like a dirty dish rag."
I'm sure she could see my countenance sag in disappointment...truth was I was thinking she might make a nice dirty dish rag herself. But I gave her the money anyway.
I didn't even have a chance to ask her name because she disappeared as soon as the cash left my hand and found it's way to hers.
It was then, just as she was walking out the side door, that another beauty came in. In many ways I found her more attractive than the last sweetie, though she was obviously a little bit older. Hey, no problem! I can "befriend" a teen some other time, I thought, maybe under more private circumstances (I mean, who knew when the rest of the band might come stumbling out...I may be shameless, but I wouldn't want them to see me fraternizing with a minor...you know what they say: "15 will get you 20").
I made sure I got this one's name before anything else.
"Sadie Young", she purred like a cat in heat, "Everyone calls me 'Sexy Sadie'."
Now some folks might think she was sexy and some folks might not. I tended to side with the former opinion. She didn't look like a drug head, so I didn't ask her if she wanted to shoot up some China White I had hidden in the glove compartment of the "Love Van".
As I began to unzip my trousers, I said, "Okay, baby are you ready to play?"
"Actually, I am," she replied, though she was not looking at me. She was staring out the window at a group of people who were milling about by a car, passing something around and coughing a lot. "They're having an after-hours skiffle tournament in the bar and I can't afford the registration fee. Have you got a 10 dollar bill you can loan me until I beat the pants off of 'em?"
I quickly pulled on my own pants, getting them zipped up just before she turned to see me.
"Awww, come on," she purred. "Pleeeeeeese?"
I could understand why they called her "Sexy Sadie". I wish I could have explored the etymology of that name a little more, but there was a knock on the door.
I whipped out my wallet and pulled a crisp bill from it. "Here's twenty, Sadie. Double or nothing, eh?"
Ms. Young walked out, and in walked this woman, climbing the van's doorstep with a slight wobble. She wore an old-fashioned cream-colored dress the likes of which I had not seen anywhere but in the nursing home where my great grandmother lived. The distinct odor of talcum powder wafted from her whole body, and her teeth didn't seem to fit quite right in her mouth.
"Hi there," she said, "I'm Anita Biggun."
"Uhh...nice to meet you, Ms. Biggun", I stammered. "What can I do for you?"
"Oh, well, I have to be honest. You know honesty is the best policy. I saw those other two girls leavin' here..."
"Oh, I see", I said. "You need to borrow some money. How much do you need?"
"Money?", she said with an incredulous look on her face. "Heavens no! What do I want money for? I want to fuck you like an animal."
I was speechless. Literally I could not say a word. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, and I really didn't know how to deal with it.
"Do me like a dirty dog," she said, meaning every word. "And when you're dead beat I want you to get out yer works and jab me with that smack stick you keep hidden in your guitar case".
The night finally came to an end.
I was 40 dollars poorer and nursing the worst hangover in the history of the universe, but one thing I knew I'd never forget...
Anita Biggun got what she needed, even if I didn't get exactly what I wanted.
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