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April 06, 2005

Yet Another Call From Ace

ACE: Yo, Hoke. Look, I want to just say I'm sorry for--

HOKE: Spare me the scheduled Ike Turner-style chain-apologies. What the hell do you want?

ACE: Just wanted to let you know I didn't need to borrow that money from you anymore. I've got myself a new gig. It's great-- all the attention I want, and it pays good, too.

HOKE: What is it?

ACE: Well, it's sort of like cabaret.

HOKE: Sort of?

ACE: Yeah... kind of. A little.

HOKE: Oh, God. What the hell are you doing now?

ACE: Okay, look, don't judge me, but do you know how much it costs to maintain a $200 per day crack habit?

HOKE: I'm guessing somewhere in the vicinity of two-hundred dollars per day.

ACE: No-- wait, yeah, that's exactly right. Man, you're good. You must have been on the pipe yourself to figure it out that quick. But anyway, I need my rock, I need my smoke, and brother, I need money for that.

HOKE: So this "cabaret"...?

ACE: Well, it's not so much "cabaret" as light -- and I stress the word "light" -- light male prostitution.

HOKE: I don't even want to know...

ACE: No, it's nothing like that. I don't touch no one. I mean, I'm not a homo or anything. I just...

HOKE: Just what?

ACE: Well... I just have to dress up like Rizzo from Grease and sing "Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee." And, you know, my audience really seems to dig it. They're certainly a lot more appreciative than all of those rotten bastards who wouldn't even buy my stupid schmattas.

HOKE: How appreciative?

ACE: What do you mean?

HOKE: You know what I mean. What is your audience doing while you croon to, um, show their appreciation?

ACE: I don't know.

HOKE: Ace...

ACE: Seriously, I don't know what these old perverts are doing. First of all, I try not to look. Second of all, they all have satin Pink Lady jackets over their laps, so who knows what's going on under there. And third-- it's all I can do just to keep up with my choreography. It's really complicated! My pimp Ajax thinks he's Bob Fuckin' Fosse or something.

HOKE: Ajax?

ACE: Well, his name is really "Andre." But I call him Ajax.

HOKE: Why?

ACE: You know... growing up as a kid... I always thought that if I became a male prostitute, I'd want my pimp to be named "Ajax."

HOKE: Oh, yeah. I see what you mean. The dreams of youth.

ACE: Why? What did you imagine your man-pimp would be named?

HOKE: Actually, as it turns out... I always dreamed he'd be named "Ace."




HOKE: Well. That was kind of awkward.

ACE: I think we should just pretend it was never said and move on from here.

VOICE: (unintelligible shout in background)

ACE: Look, I gotta go. They're calling me for my costume changes for "The Worse Thing I Could Do." I need a couple of minutes to prepare. The key changes are a bitch, and it really tests my lower octave.

HOKE: A solo?

ACE: No, they've mixed it up a bit. I'm doing some kind of Latin-Hustle number with this enormous guy playing Kinicke. The guy's only wearing a leather jacket and about a cubic yard of morning wood. He's a nightmare to dance with.

HOKE: He's all over your feet?

ACE: Yeahhhhh... Sure. Why not. Let's go with that.

VOICE: (unintelligible shout)

ACE: Anyway, that's Ajax saying last call. One sec, Ajax!

VOICE: It's Andre!

ACE: Whatever. He'll get used to it.

HOKE: Come home, Ace. Look: You're now both a crack addict and a male prostitute. Don't you think you should just admit this "retirement" was a bad idea and come back to blogging?

ACE: No way, man! This is just like blogging, except I'm providing entertainment for a live audience. And... except that I'm wearing saddle-shoes and a poodle-skirt. And also: that I'm showing my weiner to strange men.

HOKE: Which, I have to admit, is a little like your blogging.

ACE: Exactly. Well, here goes. Gotta go. It's my time to shine. Baby, I'm a star.


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posted by Ace at 02:41 PM

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