Large Dog Larry: Part 2

I like to observe people who interest me. My friend Tyson calls it "stalking", but generally he is willing to accompany me on my sightseeing expeditions. A few weekends ago we pulled into the parking lot of The Siren in Hermosa Beach so we could spy on one of my favorite subjects, Large Dog Larry. Large Dog Larry has lived in that beach area for decades. His skintight jeans, diamond rings, and long, feathered hair harken back to the cocaine-fueled era of the 1980s. In my mind the theme from Scarface is playing whenever the Large Dog strides into a room. Of course I've never seen him anywhere other than The Siren and a lot of stuff happens in my mind that has no connection with reality. Still, other people seem to take a shine to the Large Dog too. The Siren is right on the beach and one time, during a ninety-degree summer afternoon, a little kid inside the place pointed to Larry and said with wonder:

"Mom, that man is wearing cowboy boots."

My friend Raul, who was with me that day, almost choked on his sandwich when he heard the comment and I slid my gaze downward to see Larry's snazzy snakeskin boots protruding from beneath his tight jeans. The boots even had little spurs on the back and metal decorations on the pointed toes. The boy's mother glanced at Larry but did not respond to her son's observation. Larry was leaning against a piano/table at the far side of the room with a big-boobed blonde who was wearing a T-shirt with text across her breasts that read: "They really are hypnotic, aren't they?"

That kid was certainly not the first young man to take notice of Larry. Tyson's friend Vaughn grew up next door to Larry and idolized him for years. Vaughn claims that Larry's pimp-style diamond rings were all gifts from past girlfriends. All the women were wealthy and all were married. Supposedly one rich husband walked into his own house in ritzy Palos Verdes, CA only to discover Larry pumping his wife in the ass with his giant rod. That housewife was the source of one of the rings.

Larry also dated young models because, according to local gossip, he was a Penthouse photograher in the 1980s. Vaughn remembers lots of hot babes coming over to Larry's house at all hours of the day and night. He'd also see Larry out on the boardwalk with a girl on each arm. Sometimes they would have coordinating outfits, like the time one was a cowgirl and the other was an Indian.

Stories about Larry abound in Hermosa Beach. Perhaps my fascination with him arises from the fact that he's almost a caricature of a person. He could be a cartoon. He belongs on a billboard with Angelyne. It's really amusing to see how people react to him. In any case, Tyson and I were at The Siren to hang out by the ocean and observe Larry. On our way in Tyson yelled to the lot attendant:

"Where's Large Dog Larry? We're here to see Large Dog Larry!"

I couldn't believe it. It's impossible to spy on someone if that person gets wind of the fact that you are spying on them. The glare I fixed on Tyson made him realize his mistake. It was too late. The lot attendant smiled a big smile and came up to us:

"Larry's not here yet. He's probably out drinking a champale somewhere, but he'll be in later."

Champale? Champail? Champagle? Shampale? My mind got stuck on the word. That always happens when I don't know how to spell something. The part of the sentence in which it was used replays itself over and over and over in my brain, kind of like when an old record player hits a scratch on a vinyl record. I managed to shake my mind out of the groove and then Tyson and I left before Larry could arrive and find out from the parking lot guy that two people were asking about him. We decided to go back a different time and we both wondered aloud what "champale" was. A pail of champagne? Sparkling Wine? Boone's Farm with bubbles?

Of course I told Jewell Marceau the whole story the next day when we met at the gym for our boxercise class. Jewell has met the Large Dog before...


How did Jewell respond? What lethal insult from her mouth turned our lame boxercise workout into a bare-knuckled slugfest?! Join my Playhouse now to read her rude comment and see this huge catfight gallery in its entirety!


- XXOO Tanya






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