Call #1
"Hello, Roosevelt Insurance. May I help you?"
"Hello, can I speak to..."
Gulp, do not say "Stiff."
"...Don?"
"May I ask who is calling please?"
Sure, an old friend who knew your boss before he became Don Roosevelt, when he was Sheldon "Stiff" Rosenfeld, aka The Human Erection.
"Umm, Harry, Harry Starr."
"Thank you, Mr. Starr. I'll check if he's available."
Check if he's available...More like check if he's jerking off in his office or not. How do guys like this pull off these charades? May I ask who's calling? I'll check if he's available. Don Roosevelt.
Harry wrapped his hand around the mouth-piece of the phone and flushed the toilet.
"Hello, Mr. Starr!"
"Hello, Mr. Stiff!"
"Oh man, Harry. Those were the days. Camp was the best. So how are you doing, Harry old boy?"
Old boy. Like we knew each other from The Knickerbocker Club, not Camp --- where we ate gefilte fish and drank grape juice for Friday night supper. Old boy.
"Harry? Harry, are you still there? What's that sound? Did something just explode?"
O, the dangers of making the bathroom call.
"...Oh yeah, sorry. A light bulb just blew."
Out of my ass.
" Hang on, let me turn off the switch."" Harry covered the mouth-piece of the phone with his hand and held back from cracking up. Calling from the crapper was epic.
"Sorry...I'm okay now...What do I call you now anyways?"
"Don. Don Roosevelt. Officially changed my name two years ago."
"Okay...D-d...Stiff...Fuck, can I still call you Stiff?"
"Fuck, why not? From one dick-head to another...So what's up, Starr?"
"Well, for one, I'm moving to L.A. next week. I've been writing scripts
lately and want to give it a shot writing for TV. I was wondering if you could give me Ricky Dash's number? I haven't spoken to him since he moved to L.A."
"Yeah, well, say hello to Dik-Dash with a dash for me if you see him."
"Dik-Dash with a Dash?"
"Yeah, Ricky-boy's new and improved Hollywood name. He actually modified his name. Ricky - out, he's Dik now, that's D-I-K, no C, and he added a dash between Dik and Dash. So he's got like one name now, Dik-Dash with a dash. And to think the dick-head busted my balls for changing my name! That Fucken hypocrite that Dik-Dash."
"Dik-Dash? That's hysterical!...Umm...so I guess your still not talking since the Wedding Invitation dispute? Man, I thought that you guys would've made up by now. You were so close."
Harry ripped a long fart while while dumping more from the previous night's midnight souvlaki run.
"Are you calling me from the crapper, Starr?"
"No, no, of course not," Harry said while involuntarily ripping another mighty blast.
That yogurt sauce was a killer.
That yogurt sauce was a killer.
"You fucker, this is a crapper call. You're calling me from the shit-house! I can practically smell it over the phone line."
Shit, I must seem like such a jerk.
"Relax, Harry, it's no biggie. I'm actually on the can too. I think there's something about hearing from an old camp friend that moves the bowels...So what were you saying?"
"About Ricky, man. I can't believe you lost contact with him."
"It's not like I didn't try, Starr-man. I sent Ricky a card when he got engaged. The putz never even acknowledged it. Apparently Dikie-Dash is too big a Hollywood dude to bother with his old friends."
"Shit...You guys were like best friends. Didn't you give him his first blow job?"
"No, when I tried his cock was already up your ass, Harry Starr. After you've always been the dream boy, tall, dark and handsome...Say, weren't you doing some acting. I remember Ricky talking about you. He thought you were great, that you'd one day you'd make it as an actor--"
"Yeah, we'll, he thought wrong. Acting's not my thing anymore...I fucken choked, but that's another long and boring story. Now, I'm writing...ah, writing..."
"Yeah...writing? Cool...So you should still try to call Dik-Dash with a dash. He always thought you were a great guy, Harry. Look, I don't have his number anymore, but you should try his parents. They're in the phone book. They still live in the same house on Tupper Drive."
"Ahhh...okay...Okay."
"..."
"Well, thanks, Stiff. I'll let you know how it goes."
"Yeah, keep me posted, Harry...Say, did you take out a health insurance policy for when you're in L.A.? Y'know Medicare doesn't cover you down there if something happens like getting your dick stuck in a drawer."
"Fuck off..."
"No seriously. I just so happen to have a plan that would be perfect for you, Harry...And quite reasonably priced too. Are you still cheap?"
Call #2
Awkward "Hello, Mrs. Dash, it's Harry Starr. Old friend of Ricky's from camp."
"Oh yes, I remember you, Harry. You were over at our house a few times. Nice boy. Ricky likes to be called Dik now. It's more adult-sounding."
"That's me, very nice."
Crackling silence. Uncomfortable Parent chat.
"...So I'm going down to live in L.A. for a while and wanted to call up Dik. Would you be able to give me his number?"
"...Aha...yes...I don't mean to be impolite, Harry, but I'll have to speak Rich-err-Dik first. His rules. Dik gets so many calls now, you can imagine."
"...Yes, umm, I understand...so..."
"Why don't you call me back in a couple of days? I'll be speaking with Rr..Dik tomorrow."
"Sounds good, Mrs. Dash. I'll call you then."
Not really, needing clearance from Dik-Dash. Fuck, what am I? Some desperate stalker? But hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.
Two days later Harry got the number.
That was a Sunday night.
Call #3
Monday night: Mondays are always a bad day to call.
Tuesday night: Too tired. Killer day at work.
Wednesday night: Three aborted dials. Tried.
Thursday night: They tape Dik-Dash's show that night, Dik-Dash unavailable. Would've tried.
Friday night: Friday night dinner with the family. Never call on a Friday night.
Saturday night: Only losers call on a Saturday night.
Sunday night: Fucking do it already! Dik-Dash's probably home with the family. Best chance to catch him.
Need a drink.
A shot of vodka...another one...and another.
Make the call already. What do I call him? Ricky or Dik? Or sir? It's not the same anymore. Should've taken the role in his student film. Should've, could've. I'm such a putz.
Pacing, pacing.
Deep breaths.
Sit down, get a pad and pen.
Doodle caricature of Ricky, handsome chiseled Dik-Dash.
Vodka shot.
Dial, man, dial.
Busy signal. Phew.
Pacing, pacing.
Look in the mirror. You're so handsome, Harry. So handsome.
Dial...A ring. Butterflies in the tummy. Another ring.
"Hello..."
A woman's voice. Must be wife. What's her name? Mrs. Dik-Dash? Deep breath, strong acting voice.
"Hi, can I speak to...uhh...Dik, please?"
Yeah, Ricky.
"Who should I say is calling?"
The guy who used to play rafter-ball with Ricky behind Bunk 24.
"Harry, his old friend from camp, Harry Starr."
"Okay, hold on a sec, I'll go get him. He's doing some editing work now."
She sounds so nice. Am I bugging him...Too late to bang down and hide under pillow.
"I can call back at another time if he's busy."
Don't sound so fucking submissive, Harry.
"No, it's okay, Dik could use a break. He's been working all day. I'm sure he'd like to hear from an old friend."
He would? Nice girl...Dik, call him Dik.
"Sure, thanks."
"Ricky...." wife calls out.
Tic toc, tic toc...What's taking so long? Maybe he really doesn't want to speak to me? I wouldn't want to speak to me.
"Hello...?"
"Ricky?"
"Dik."
"Dik?"
"Was Ricky."
"Hi D-Dik, it's Harry."
"Larry?"
"No, Harry. Harry Starr."
"Hey man, Harry! Just teasing. Howya doing, Harry Starr?"
"Doin' fine...and you?"
"Can't complain. Married. Kid. Writing on Outta Town."
"It's all good, all good..."
Awkward moment of silence.
"So what's up with you, Harry. It's been a while."
"Yeah, it has. Not married. Not near married. I've been working in sales..."
"That's cool..."
"I'm not acting anymore, but started writing..."
"..."
"Yeah, remember Ronnie Finkelstein?"
"Oh yeah, Ronnie...How's he doing?"
"Well, not so hot lately. But he got me into writing scripts. I'm actually finishing off a Feldman spec script now and planning on taking it down to L.A. with me."
"Cool..."
"I guess...That's kind of why I'm calling. I'm gonna see if I can get something going writing for sitcoms and was wondering if you wouldn't mind...taking a look at it?"
"No problem, Harry. I can read it and give you back some notes."
Oh, man, fucking great, amazing.
"That would be great...Dik--"
"So look, Harry. Send me your script when it's finished and we'll take it from there. Might take me some time to get to it, things are crazy busy now."
"I can imagine..."
No I can't.
No I can't.
"...Yeah..."
"Anyhow, I won't keep you longer, D-Dik. I should be finished the script this week and then I'll send it to you..."
"Great."
"Yeah, great. I really appreciate this, Dik. Thanks a lot."
"My pleasure."
Really?
"Bye, Harry."
Harry crashed out on the sofa with a smile.
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