A House Guest
2007-07-18 - 1:02 a.m.

before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

I was sitting at my desk Friday afternoon in my cubicle when the phone rang.

It was an outside number.  The caller ID read 'Unknown'.

I picked it up.

"Hello?"  I said.

"Hello."  a high pitched male voice said, "Am I speaking with-- a Mr.-- Jay Argentum."

My mind raced.   Bill collector?  Oh shit...

"Yes."  I responded.

"Ah-Mr. Jay Argentum--"  the voice paused, "I have incredible news for you."

"Oh really."

"You WON!" he exclaimed.

"I what?"

"You've WON!"  he repeated with the exact same inflection and enthusiasm.

"I won?"  I asked, tremulously.  A radio contest?  Sweepstakes?  Publisher's clearing house?

A subpoena?  What?

"You're our---GRAND PRIZE WINNER!"

"I am?"

"YES."  he said with verve, conviction.

"Is this a joke?"

"NO."  he said with equal verve and conviction.

"Who is this?"  I asked.  The voice sounded strangely familiar.

"This, Jay--my friend---my...dear,dear...friend, is someone you might....recognize.  I think...you may have seen...some of my WORK."

"Oh yeah?"  

The pause hung in the air.  I suppose the 'like what?' was implied.  But then, for all I know, he may have been choking on a bone.

"THE DEER HUNTER." he blurted.

"No shit?"  I responded.

"Probably doesn't mean much to you... a great...CINEMATIC...work like that...kids today of your generation...dont pay attentinon to such things...mostly watch TRASH--well...you might have seen me in WEDDING CRASHERS..."

"Christopher Walken?"  I asked, bewildered.

"YES!"  he replied, "JAY MY BOY!  You WON!"

"WOW!"  I exclaimed, excited.

"You WON!"  he repeated.

"CHRISTOPHER WALKEN!!"  I was stunned.  Not only was I talking to a major Hollywood star, a fim icon, but he was saying  I won something.  Holy shit, how does this get any better?

"WHAT DID I WIN!"  I asked, then I paused, "I don't remember entering any sweepstakes."

"That's of minor importance--Jay.  Perhaps...one of your...FRIENDS...entered you in the contest.  What's of major FUCKING  importance...Jay...is you WON!"

It seemed almost intimidating to hear him say that.  But what the hell.  Its Walken.  Comes with the territory.

"Ok, well, what did I win?"

"The GRAND PRIZE!"  he exclaimed, "A WEEKEND WITH ME!  CHRISTOPHER WALKEN!"

*    *    *
I gave him my contact information over the phone.  He said they'd send over paperwork, realeases, things like that, and someone would contact me with all the details.

To my surprise he was sitting in my beanbag chair, watching TV,  waiting in my apartment when I came home that afternoon.  Several black bags of luggage laid on the floor around him.

"HEY MR. WALKEN!"  I said, enthused, "I'm a big, BIG fan!"

I walked over and shook his hand.

"Hello." he said simply, "I hope you don't mind...I talked to your landlady...and I told her the details...she's an excellent woman....and she...let me...right into your domicile."

"No, I don't mind."  I said, "I thought you wouldn't be here until some other time, though."

"Well...as it turns OUT...THIS...is the only time I have...AVAILABLE...ha! ha!...So I figured...I'd...COME ON OVER..."

It was the spookiest laugh I'd heard in my life.

"Well, that's cool."  I said.

"Nice place you have here, "  he said, "Very...boehmian."

And there was another awkward pause as "Deal or No Deal" sqwaked in the background.

"Well, Whaddya' wanna do first?" I asked.

"Its YOUR weekend--Jay."

And there was another pause.  What the fuck would I do with Chris Walken?

"Well, I'm hungry," I said, "Lets go get a taco."

*    *    *

I pulled into the Taco Bell drive-through.

"You're ordering,"  I said.

He looked at me with a smirk and a mirthful look in his eye.

"You want me to order?"  He asked quietly, slyly.

"Yes.  I want you to order.  And pay for it, too."

He looked at me squinting.  Again, I felt intimidated.

"ALLRIGHT.  I'LL ORDER."

"Welcome to Taco Bell, my name is Marc...How are you today?"  the drive through speaker crackled.

"HI.  I'd LIKE...THREE TACOS....HARD SHELLED...SUPREME...NO TOMATO..."  Walken began.

"What?"  The drive through attendant interrupted.  I choked down my laughter.  I had Christopher Walken ordering my food from the Bell.  It might as well have been an alien.

"I'd LIKE...THREE TACOS...HARD SHELLED...SUPREME..."

"What was that?"  the attendant interrupted Walken again.

"I SAID...I'd like three TACOS....hard SHELLED...SUPREME..."

"Could you repeat that, please?"  the attendant said.

Walken gritted his teeth.  His jaw tensed in anger.  

"I'm gettin' ANGRY here...having to...REPEAT myself..."  Walken began.

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to talk to the manager."  the fast-food jerk replied.

Walken cast a sidelong glance at me that said he blamed me for everything.

I pulled forward slowly.  I did my best not to be cowed by the Walken-esque.

"You're still payin' for it, right?"  I asked,

"Yeah, I'm still payin' for it."  he parroted back sullenly.

Walken reached into all the pants pockets of his grey suit.  He came up with a $1.57.

"A dollar fifty seven?"  I mocked, "You're a big film star!"

"I'm sorry Jay...I don't carry CASH."

*    *    *

Walken and I ended up watching a lot of television that weekend.  Audrey was out of town visiting relatives and Im a relatively boring fuck these days.

I tried to get him to go out to the bar, but he just seemed to sulk.

"What's the point...Jay?" he'd say and look at me with creepy blue eyes.

Apparently he was broke, too.  He ordered several pizza's with pineapple on it and made me pay, each time giving me a steely look and saying 'Jay...pay the man".

So I did, I mean, its Christopher Walken.  Its not like its some bum friend who never has a job.

By Sunday night he confided in me that he had just gone through a nasty divorce.

"Bitch..." he said aimlessly, and then, just as I thought it was a solo expression of contempt, he chimed in with, "Took me for....EVERYTHING.  EVERYTHING...Jay...makes a man WONDER....what's the point..."

"It'll be ok Mr. Walken-"I began.

"Call me Chris."  He said.

"Chris-"  I replied.

"Chris." he whispered to me.

"Chris, it'll work out."

"EVERYTHING!" he bellowed, "Bitch...even took...my DOG."

"I'm sorry man. That's awful,"  I offered sympathetically.

"Jay...Jay...Jay my boy...listen to me here...."  he began as he fixed me with a dead stare, almost whispering, sidling up to me on the couch, "never...trust...any filthy dirty little WHORE from Texas."

"Ohhh Kay, Mr. Walken,"  I said, uncomfortable with the proximity.

"You know...Jay...its come to my attention...that you're not having any FUN."  

"No, I'm having a great time, Mr. Walken."

"Chris." He stated.

"Chris."  I corrected myself.

"Chris."  he whispered, "You do have a credit card...right...Jay?"

"Yeah, sure I do."

"Well...then...lets go to the STRIP CLUB!"

So, what the fuck?  I figured I'd go to the strip club with Walken.

*    *    *

It was by about 2:00 am when Walken and I had our first conflict.  He'd spent about $500 dollars I didn't have, especially on one stripper named 'Ferrari".  Ferrari had a wandering eye but was otherwise a nice girl.  A sympathetic soul that sat and listened to Walken's tale of divorce woe with an empathetic look in the one good eye.

We sat in the front row right by the stage for awhile.  Walken got a bunch of in-house cash on my card and spent about 50 dollars on 'dives for five', where they pull a guy onto the side of the stage, crouch over the man, and pick up a five dollar bill from his mouth with their mammoth fake breasts.  Its all good fun, but ten in a row?

Later he'd gone in back for an extended tour in the Champagne Room with 'Ferrari' and came out looking flushed when it began.

"Ja-ay."  he began to wheedle, "I need...some more...CASH."

"Really, Chris?"  I asked, shaking my head.  Doesn't he realize nothing ever happens in the Champagne Room?  Was he that much of a sucker for women?

"Ferrari...does this thing...with her lips...a sort of...BUZZING...VIBRATING thing..."

"Ok..."

"And she hits...the SWEET SPOT...ha! ha!...if you know what I me-an,"  he said with a smug, self-assured smile.

"No, I know what you mean, Chris...its just that its getting late and I have to work tomorrow..."

"Fifty dollars, Jay..."

"What?"

"Fifty dollars..." he said simply, crossing his legs and putting his arm around my chair, "Fifty dollars...to see HEAVEN."

"Mr. Walken, I just...don't have a lot of money," I said, somewhat embarassed,"This is all credit." 

Ferrari stood nearby and pouted.  I wasn't sure if she was looking at me or the stage.

Walken took his arm off of my chair and waved Ferrari away.  He looked pissed.  An uncomfortable few minutes passed without a word being spoken.  On stage a homely girl writhed on a pole attempting to dance and doing so clumsily.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my VISA card.  Why not.  Its Walken.  Besides, he just went through a nasty divorce.   She even took his dog.

"Here you go, you bastard."  I said.

He brightened appreciably, waved Ferrari over and disappeared into the Champagne Room.

*    *    *

The next morning he was crashed on the bean-bag with his clothes stil on, gangly arms and legs splayed about around him, as if he had suddenly lost power and that was as far as he made it.  I got ready for work and offered him some coffee.

"Jay..."  he said with massive seriousness, "That was...exactly what I needed."

"No problem...Chris,"  I said.  I felt as if I had made a new friend.  Some sort of exchange had occured.  It was a good feeling.

There was a pregnant pause in the air.

"Well, I have to go to work,"  I said, "So I guess this is it.  The end of my Weekend with Christopher Walken."

He said nothing.

"Was it Maxim magazine?  They never called..."  I asked.

"I believe so..."  he stated, "My people...handle all these...DETAILS."

"I wonder who it was?"  I asked, "Do you know who it was who signed me up for the contest?"

He said nothing.

"Maybe it was Rob.  Maybe he signed me up."  I stated.

"Theres no way of TELLING.  They impersonated YOU..."  he began.

"Yeah, I know.  Still this was a great weekend, Chris.  Good times.  Thanks."

"No, Thank...YOU..." he replied, clearing his throat, "I feel...EMOTIONAL...like I...made a new FRIEND."

"Aw, thanks Chris.  You don't have to say that."

"No...JAY...I mean it."

"Well, thanks. "  I said.

There was a pregnant pause in the air.

"You know...JAY...since the divorce...I find myself...with a few days on my hands here..."

Walken looked at me as if he expected something.  The pause lengthened and seemed to be almost like a stench in the air.

Finally I broke the silence.

"Do you want to stay here for a few days?"  I asked.

"III've got a few...DAYS...TO KILL."

"Sure, sure.  Mi casa es su casa."  I said.

"Ha! HA!"  he laughed creepily, "I...ahhhh...knew about you...HA!"

"Sure man, let the good times roll."  

And I went to work.

*    *    *

Audrey called me on her lunch break.

"Hows work?"  I asked.

"Some creepy old guy asked me to change his filthy watch-band.  But otherwise its fine. "  She replied, "How are you?"

"I'm GREAT!  You'll never guess who's at my house RIGHT NOW!"

"Who?"  she asked.

"CHRISTOPHER WALKEN."  I said with aplomb.

"Christopher Walken?  she asked confusedly, "Who's THAT?"

*    *    *

It wasn't until later in the week that I asked Walken how long he was staying.  I tried to be innocuous about it, but you know how it goes with fish and house guests.  After three days they start to stink.

"Just...until my next JOB...Jay...my next SHOOT."

"What's that, your next GQ shoot?"  I chided.

He fixed me with an ice-cold glare, staring me down.

*    *    *

Friday night I was date-night with Audrey.  We were going to go to a movie and a local pizzeria that we both liked.  There was a knock on the door and Walken answered it.

"Hello."  he said sweetly.

"Hello,"  she said, " You must be Mr. Walken."

"Call me Christopher."  he said softly.

"Ok, Christopher," she replied deliberately, "Jay has told me a lot about you."

"HAS HE."  he stated firmly, fixing me with a glare, "ALL GOOD THINGS...I HOPE.  HA. HA."

I felt a slight chill creep up my spine.

"Well, we should get going if we're going to make the movie,"  I said to Audrey.

"It was a pleasure to meet you...AUDREY."  Walken said, almost leering at her.

I hustled Audrey out the door.

"How long is he going to be here, anyway?"  she whispered to me as we went down the steps.

"I don't know."  I answered.

*    *    *

We ate and had a good time.  Walking up the stairs I heard loud music emanating from my apartment.  Apparently Walken was getting his swerve on.

I opened the door.  Walken was in a red silk robe with a captain's hat on, dancing with three large-breasted strippers who were bare except for their thongs.

He stepped out of the circle and stopped the music.

"Hey Chris."  I said carefully, "What's going on?"

"JAY MY BOY!!" he exclaimed, "Just having a few...friends...over for the...EVENING."

"Ok..."

"Speaking of which...do you mind if I...BORROW...your bedroom for the evening?"

He looked at me with a stare that could cut glass.

I folded like a cheap card-table.

"Yeah, sure Chris.  Whatever you want."

He took the strippers into the bedroom and closed the door.  Loud thumping and bass filled music emanated forth.

Audrey and I curled up on the couch in front of the television.

"I can't believe you gave him your bedroom for the night with three strippers."  she said.

"Yeah, me either.  I don't know what I was thinking."

From my bedroom, a loud creepy laugh broke through the bedlam, followed by the nervous giggles of working girls.  

There was a knock on the door to the apartment.  A leggy stripper with large breasts dressed like an equstrian with a riding crop was there, smacking the crop into the palm of her hand.

"I heard there was a bad BOY here that needed to be ridden hard." she said attempting to be pouty.

"He's right in there."  I said and pointed to the bedroom door.

She opened the door and stepped inside.  Audrey looked at me with a mixture of shock, disgust, and disbelief.

*    *    *

The next morning at breakfast was tense.  Walken looked like something the cat had drug in.  My bedroom reeked of stipper perfume and tawdry sex.  Cheap lingerie littered the floor.  I made Walken some coffee.

"How's it goin'?"  I asked with directness in my voice.

"Not well..."he gasped, slurping on some hot coffee,"those were some...limber women."

"I thought you were broke, Chris."

There was a cold silence between us.

"I found a card..."  he began.

"Well, that's good."  I said tersely, "Maybe you can start paying your share of the groceries around here."

He looked at me and tried to be stern, but just didnt have the energy.

"Ok, its settled, you're buying your own food now."  I said, feeling tough.

"Its settled."  he whispered, grabbing the coffee and shuffling back to the bedroom.

*    *    *

Things seemed to be fine the next couple of days, until I tried to buy lunch at the local restaraunt.

"I'm sorry sir, but your card has been declined."  the clerk said without emotion, "In fact, I'm supposed to cut it up."

"WHAT?!"  I shouted.

"Here, I'll give it back."  he said "I suggest you take it up with them."

*    *    *
When I got back to my cubie I called the credit card company.

"There must be some kind of mistake,"  I whined piteously, "My card was declined today."

The cube-farm robot on the other end processed some information.

"Yes sir," he replied in a thick Indian accent, "There seem to be some oustanding charges. "

"Outstanding charges?"

"You are over your limit?"

"That's impossible-"  I began.

"I could read to you some of the charges"  he asked.

"Sure, go ahead. "

"There is a 1000$ dollar charge at a place called 'DeJa Vu',"

"$1000!"

"Was that not you, sir?  Three weeks ago?"

"No, I was there, they must have run something up on me."

"There is also the matter of 4 charges a few days ago."

"Oh?"  I asked imperiously.

"Three charges at $1500 a piece for "'out-call' from Lo-Ron's escort service for all night engagments, as well as another $2000 dollars for "specialty out-call" from Del Robbyn's mystique escort service, all to the same address."

"Oh really?" I asked.

"535 Alameda."  he replied, "Is this your current address, sir?"

I burned with rage.

Walken!

*    *    *

I almost burst the door down when I came home and rounded on Walken with severity.

"Jay...its just until...I get my next...JOB...any DAY now..."

"Ok, but-"

"Its only...MONEY...Jay.."

"Chris, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"I'll pay you BACK...TWICE...what I owe...any day now...HOLLYWOOD."

"Goddamit Walken."

"Jay...you're not going to let...a little thing...like MONEY...get in the WAY...of our FRIENDSHIP..."

I sighed and shook my head in disgust.

"Don't WORRY..." he slung his arm over me,"It'll all...work itself OUT."

I fixed him with a glare but it just didnt work.

"You're gonna' pay me back, fucker."  I said.

"DOUBLE."  he bellowed.

*    *    *

A few days went by and I started feeling better about things.  I had found some spare cash in my sock drawer and brought some chinese food home to surprise him.  Its tough to stay mad at Walken.

I opened the door to a nasty surprise.  The smell of incense was thick in the air.  Wine bottles lay around the place.  The blinds were drawn and tons of candles littered every available surface.

In the middle of the room Audrey and Walken sat face to face, egs crossed in the lotus position with a candle in between them.  They were as naked as jay-birds, not a stitch of clothing between them.

I was in a rage.

"What the FUCK, WALKEN!"  I shouted.  I looked down at Audrey, "How could you DO this to me?"

"JAY!"  Walken barked, "I was just teaching...young Audrey here...the many benefits of Tantric meditation."

"WHAT?!  WHAT!?  WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"Jay, chill out" Audrey slurred, obviously drunk and possibly drugged as well, "Its just tantric something-or-the-other.  It doesnt MEAN anything.  He was just teaching me a few things."

"I DON'T WANT HIM TEACHING YOU ANYTHING!"  I shouted, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!"

"We never touched."  he said simply.

"There's no touching involved,"  she slurred again, and looked on the verge of sleep.

"WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET ALL THIS WINE AND CANDLES AND SHIT!"  WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!"

"At the store."  he said quietly.

Audrey got up and padded over to the bedroom, flopping down on the bed, promptly passing out.

I looked at Walken with murder in my eyes.

"I think..." I said quietly,"its best...if you get the FUCK out."

"Jay," Walken began,"

"I don't want to hear it."

"Jay-"  

"Don't.  Don't 'Jay' me.  Just get the fuck out before I lose my temper and do something we'll both regret."

"Jay-"

"Get the fuck OUT, Walken,"

"Jay."  he said simply.

I looked at him with rage.  I wanted to kill the fucker.  And I was none-to-leased with Audrey, but that was a problem for later.  I wasn't going to kick her out into the night all roofied up with this sex-pervert.

"What.  What, Walken.  WHAT.  What are you gonna' say that's gonna make me forget you tried to date-rape my girlfriend, huh?  WHAT!?"

Walken shook his head dismissively, whispering "date-rape."

"Well!?  Get the fuck OUT!?"

"I've got nowhere else to go." He pleaded.

"Well, that's not my PROBLEM, now is it?"

There was a pause in the air.  The jig was up and he knew it.

"Well, there is one thing we could do."  he said quietly.

I looked at him with a mask of anger and surprise.

"Do you have a phone number of someone you know...PREFERABLY...someone you don't know that well who lives...a fair DISTANCE away?"  he asked.

A number of a distant acquaintance quickly came to mind.  Bud.  He still owed me fifty bucks.  I owed him an ass kicking.

I looked at Walken and he started to smile.

*    *    *

"Is this Bud Adams?"  he queried quietly into the phone.

Pause.

"BUD, MY BOY!"  he bellowed, "You WON!"

Pause.

"You WON!"  he bellowed again with the same tone and inflection.

Pause.

"The GRAND PRIZE!"

Was he buying it?

"Do you know who this is?"  Walken asked waiting for an answer, "You WON!  A weekend with ME, Christopher WALKEN!"

From where I stood, I could hear Bud's excitement on the other end of the line.

With a nod and a wink, Walken looked at me.  Bud was buying it hook, line and sinker.

Good, I owed the fucker one.

And with that, Walken rolled on.