i'm in the hotel lobby of the drossos suites. it's 8:20 am and the lobby
doors explode as hellboy kicks in: trade-mark ripped tee, two babes,
the stench of vomit annoucing his arrival. he plops down on the sofa in
front of me, immediately tipping it over - taking out two lamps and a
courtesy table.
in the background, i see duke lugging his
bass already slapping his forehead in disgust and doc behind him clearly negotiating with the manager for
damamges done. it's 8:23 and i wonder how this band of rock-a-billy
scientists slash adventurers even pay the bills.
duke takes a seat and adjusts his signature poodle skirt. as the tallest
and largest of the group, it never gets normal to see a large hairy man in
giant construction boots adjust his poodle skirt.
doc plops down in a club chair on the left and mumbles something into
his wrist.
i begin: 'gentlemen, (i'm spared the three stooges spastic looking about the
room) are you just finishing or starting your day?'
duke and hellboy stare unaffected.
'when you have mastery of the ulitmate device, days are meaningless'
replies doc.
'so you're never tired?'
in response, hellboy screams (what i'll later learn is swhaili) a four
minute lecture on the illusion of fatigue.
in an attempt to resume an interview i ask duke how long he's owned
the poodle skirt (countless other interviewers have asked the obvious -
what's with the skirt - without reward).
'during the hurricane of 453, a phoenician dog peddler was blown off course
and was stranded in scotland...'
while duke continues his long lost scottish tribe explanation
of his 'KILT,' doc discretely leans over and quietly says 'duke's retarded.'
behind them, hellboy has completed one of dirac's unfinished
mathematical formulas on the lobbly wall and before finishing, grabs a
pricless chinese vase and vomits repeatedly into it.
suddenly, duke leaps up, lifting his ponytails into the air
and yells 'dont' hate me becuase i'm beautiful.'
my final question to doc, 'how does all this choas
stay congealed - how do the three of you do so much good -
what's the secret to psycho-billy world-travillin' scientific rock-n-rollers?'
(i have to yell this as hotel security are wrestling with hellboy).
doc matter-a-factly replies:
'hugs, booze and bullets'
and with that, a gene vincent impressionist blows through
the front window in a 64 convertible lincoln, scoops up the boys.
and as i sit there, picking glass out of my notebook,
the manager walks up and says 'the man in the leather
jacket said you would take care of all of this.'
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Hey John! long time no see.....we need to meet up sometime soon. I've been really busy at work-aka crazy factory and I have been starting to learn to referee for roller derby in Boston. Oh and I'm taking fall classes so I can start to apply to grad programs and clinically advise the crazies!!!!!
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