Just Like Old Times...(Plus Madison) (4) Let me tell you my friends, about a phenomenon that even if you saw it, you would have trouble believing your eyes. Let me tell you my friends, about an event that I thought would never be duplicated or equaled in any medium that you can name except real life. Let me tell you about the affect that the Thong Song has on Madison. * * * It was about a year ago that it happened. We still talk about it at Record and Tape sometimes. The story has achieved legendary status and is told by those of us who were there to amaze new kids who get hired. The event defines Madison totally and completely and till this day, Lydia forbids us from playing any songs by Sisqo inside or around the store at any time. It was the summer of 2000. Ricky Martin was all but a memory and thanks to MTV, our Platinum-haired pal from B-more, Sisqo, was blowing up in a big way due to his sequential video hits that were being played incessantly everyday on TRL, and the radio wasn’t safe either. On a lazy Saturday afternoon, where Tom and I had been working since early morning to catalog, shelve and accommodate the shipment we’d gotten earlier, Madison came into work. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and Madison was horny because she and KC had broken up again, and had been split for about a week. I’d seen Mission:Impossible II the day before with Tom, Aurora and Randy so we were listening to the soundtrack, but a half-hour into her shift, Madison asked to switch the CD. I said, “Whatever.” I didn’t care. When you work at a record store, you listen to a lot of music, and become tolerant to a lot of peoples likes and styles. Lydia was the one who weeded out the people who had truly terrible taste in music (Country) so we were pretty much ok. Madison put in the Sisqo CD, Unleash the Dragon. Tom groaned initially, but that was the most complaining she got. We would never have been able to play it if we worked in a place like The Wall, Sam Goody or Best Buy. Sisqo’s a sexy bastard and has no problem saying exactly what he wants and where he wants it. Girls like that kinda stuff (and Madison more than most). At first it was a nice change of pace from all of the rock that we usually listened to. Sometimes, if we wanted a bit of variety Tom would put in Radiohead or I’d put in some Jimmy Hendrix. But neither was a radical departure from our normal stuff like Sisqo’s Sex Rock/R&B was. I mean, just...DAMN. This guy had skits on the CD that made ME (of all people) uncomfortable and some of the women customers that were coming in, always left a bit more flushed (and hurried) than when they came in. But some of the songs were kinda catchy pop-type stuff with some rap thrown in. I liked it. I had grown up on that type of stuff. Just because I play rock music doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of my roots like some people think. Ever hear of Chuck Berry? You know, one of the FOUNDERS of Rock n’ Roll? Or how about The Spinners? They fucking rule too. One of my favorite albums of all time is Mighty Love. Black people forget that back in the old days, black folks played real instruments as well as sang, instead of just belting out songs to the latest hip-hop producer’s funkadelic beat that they’ve ripped off George Carlton in one way or another. Ugh. Get down off the soapbox Morgan. We were a little more than halfway through the CD when it all started. The violins faded in on the 8th track and I perked up at the sound wondering what Platinum Boy had up his sleeve for this song. Madison came in from a smoke break and flipped out, screaming, “TURN THIS SONG UP DAMMIT!” So I did, not to an obscene level but enough to make her happy. Madison smiled. Her eyes flashed, she started moving and shaking. Then we hit the point of no return: The tongue ring came out. That was all she friggin wrote. I wanted to hit the deck but I was helping a customer and couldn’t do anything. Tom wasn’t so lucky. He had just helped another customer find a CD they’d been looking for and was on the way to the front when he passed by Madison. At once she grabbed him with superhuman strength and pulled her to him, silently mouthing the lyrics to the song in Tom’s face, barely centimeters, literal centimeters from his body. She was all up on him slightly grinding and dancing. The chorus was fast approaching when Madison wrapped one of her legs around Tom’s. The whole store stopped. Lydia was coming out of the backroom carrying some used CD’s from the back and stood still in her tracks when she saw. Tom was frozen in place, and I don’t think I’d ever seen him express an emotion so blatantly on his face until that moment, but he was scared to death. The pre-chorus hit and we watched as Madison went into overdrive, “…she had dumps like a truck, truck, truck, thighs like what, what, what, baby move your butt, butt, butt, uh I think I’ll sing it again c’mon…” Whatever the song said to move, Madison moved against Tom. I later saw the music video to this song and it had absolutely nothing on her. She was possessed by the Sex God Sisqo and could not be stopped. “…let me see that thong…” She lost it. Madison stopped dancing on Tom and just continued on her own. Shaking her hips and thighs in a circular motion and partially pulling down her the back of her pants (where the belt loops are) to expose as much of the thong that she was wearing without taking off her pants. Mouths dropped open, including Lydia’s. Tom stood frozen in place, mouth open, Madison’s spell having not worn off from when she’d stared him down. She was still mouthing the words without actually singing along with the music, but she did it so well it seemed like the music was coming directly from her. “…that thong, th-thong, thong, thong…” She grooved, she shook, she bounced, and then she went back to Tom. She grinded, she stared, she teased, she moved, she stirred, she used Tom like a human pole, to the deafening silence of her audience and the boombastic beat of the Thong Song. “…baby when the beat go duh nuh duh nuh, baby make your booty go duh nuh duh nuh…” There was nothing anyone could do for him. Nothing anything of us could do, except watch. I wasn’t about to take his place, and if there’s one thing Madison can do, it’s captivate and audience. We were as impotent about moving as Tom was, silently sending our prayers out to the poor boy caught in the massive headlights of the Madison freight train, and his foot was stuck in the tracks. He could only hope that she wouldn’t go completely insane and start undressing him. This was a place of business after all. Madison continued to use Tom as a pole. I say that because he didn’t dance with her, and because it seemed like at one point she jumped up and swung around his skinny frame during her routine. Madison is the original FSA. We had been working one day and she asked, point blank during a slow period, “Do you think I have the body to be a stripper?” “I don’t think I can safely answer that question.” Her face darkened, “What are you trying to say?” “No, no, no, you misunderstand.” “Oh?” “Yeah, I was just saying, you’re obviously hott, but I don’t want you to think that I think of you that way or would assume that just because you’re hott and…well endowed that all you could be is a stripper, because you’re smart too and you’ve got a great—” Madison laughed and interrupted me. “Jesus Mack, okay, I get the point. Damn, it was a simple question. No hidden messages or whatever.” “Oh. I just didn’t want you to think that was all I thought of ya.” “I know.” “But you could definitely be a stripper Maddy, I mean, you know…yeah.” “Thanks.” She grinned. “I’ve always wanted to do that. You know, have the guts to get up and take my clothes off in front of people. Turn guys on and shit like that.” “Who says you have to take your clothes off to turn guys on?” “Ha ha,” she laughed. “You’re a sweetie, Mackenzie.” “Not really,” I said, “I’m honest.” I thought for a second. “But isn’t stripping kinda dangerous?” “You mean with stalkers, and fans and shit like that?” “Ummm…yeah.” “That’s what bouncers are for. Besides it’s worth it.” I’ll give you a million dollars if you can guess what Madison’s favorite show is. “Bouncers can’t be with you all the time, like at home and stuff, Madison. You’d probably need like a bodyguard or something.” “You’re right.” She frowned. But then I grinned, “Tell you what,” I offered. “If you ever become a stripper, you call me up and I’ll be your bodyguard. Protect you and beat up guys for ya. How does that sound?” Her face lit up. “Sounds perfect. And since you protect me, I could set you up on dates with the other girls I’m working with.” “You’d do that for me?” I asked. “Sure.” We shook hands. It was official. It was funny how that conversation came to mind during that whole incident. But I remember stuff like that very well and things just play out in my mind sometimes. I go off on tangents. Like now. All at once the song was over. Madison’s routine had lost it’s steam as one track faded into the next. Tom blinked rapidly, coming to his senses once again, and Madison kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for the dance. She turned to the rest of us, and someone (not me this time) started clapping, and then everyone was clapping. Loud, raucous applause, praise and whistling. She didn’t have the capacity to look humbled or embarrassed, but she was happier than I’d ever seen her. As they clapped and carried, on, Madison would turn and bow to the corners of the store, until she saw the look on Lydia’s face. Our boss was not the happiest of campers. She slowly crooked her finger at Madison, made the “come here” gesture and opened the door to the back, signaling that she wanted her to follow. Her audience “aww-ed” and she shrugged her shoulders at them before walking, head held high, to our boss. Lydia made the kill gesture to the me and I quickly pulled Unleash the Dragon from the CD player then she shut the door behind her. I put on 3 Doors Down to keep the mood even. No, Madison didn’t get fired. Yes ,we subsequently sold 12 copies of Unleash the Dragon in a row, and much more following week. No, Tom never fully recovered. Sometimes he will see Madison and have a flashback, and his body starts twitching. Yes, we had trouble keeping that CD in for the next two months as word got around. And no, we never told Aurora. Are you insane? Madison would later complain that she was sorry no one had filmed it because she wanted to send it into G-String Divas, in hopes of getting an audition. She never misses an episode. * * * Now that you know about that incident I will assume that I need not go into specifics about Madison’s performance at the club. She grabbed a random guy from the mob and basically gave a repeat show of that day in the store. She’d learned a few new moves sure, and it was fun to watch…but I’d seen it all before. It’s weird to feel almost nostalgic about what would probably be a prelude to a strip tease in another environment (not so far removed from the current one), but that’s Madison I guess. Tom had come over to watch, cheer, support and laugh but when he saw the routine she was doing and heard the Thong Song playing I think he had a flashback. He gave me a look of utter horror, started rubbing his temples, shaking and talking to himself and he quickly retreated back to the TV monitors (which were playing Ghost in the Shell, minus the audio). Aurora gave me a questioning look but I feigned innocence. Madison however, got the attention of the audience like she wanted, the boys were whooping and hollering louder than ever. And at the end of it, she came out sweaty and happy as well as (I assumed) in the lead for winning the contest. Amy, the FSA was up next and for the first time, when it seemed like she might have some really strong competition, looked as if some of the wind had been taken out of her sails. More than that, she looked angry (and shot Maddy a dirty look). She stalked to the E-Platform with a pronounced, determine power walk. She had so much swivel in her hips I thought she’d break in half on the trip over. Madison had danced on the floor so the crowd had to re-adjust itself to watch the E-Platform as they prepared for the FSA’s rebuttal to Madison’s stunning debut to the audience. They weren’t so stupid that they didn’t see a battle when it was posed. DJ Loudmouth introduced Amy, the music started and she began. Except she did the same thing she’d been doing all night. All the same moves, same rhythm…nothing new. And it wasn’t like she didn’t have her supporters, very vocal supporters (including Amanda) as she had a built-in fan base from those who were regulars inside the club. But for whatever reason, she just blew it. Amy looked tired and uninspired and the audience was bored and unimpressed. Toward the end of her routine she jumped off the platform and started grinding on a random guy but then it just looked like she was copying Madison. Some of the mob retaliated by booing her. Apparently Amy was the type of person who buckled under the threat of a challenge instead of rising to it. Madison’s victory seemed assured with just two girls left to show their stuff and a less than stellar performance from Amy (who was standing by Amanda, obviously reeling from her defeat). I had no idea what she would do with the prize if she got it, or if she would even accept it…but that wasn’t my place to pry into her affairs. Then, the unthinkable happened. Madison got shown up. Hardcore. To be quite honest, no one had any real hope or interest in the last two contestants. Which is what probably motivated such a spirited performance from, Erika (DJ Loudmouth announced), the mystery girl who followed Amy. She was short (like 5’2”), Puerto Rican, looked barely legal and was stacked like a house of cards if you know what I mean. But from the minute she walked over to the dancing area she commanded our attention, telling us to “Clear out,” and “move out of the way.” The crowd did as asked, though there were mutterings along the lines of “What does she think she’s gonna do? Who does she think she is?” and things of that nature. Loudmouth started up the music and we waited for the Erika to wow us. When the violins kicked in, she started…first with the butt bounce, which was nothing new except that she managed to do it while turning in a circle. She built it up, moving and shaking… Something was coming, but we had no idea what. Half of us were on the fence…the other half were jeering. “…she had dumps like a truck, truck, truck, thighs like what, what, what, all night long…let me see that thong…” And then she did it. Launching herself in the air, ass first, Erika managed to tuck her self into a ball in the split second she was air born and then uncurl herself while still in mid air. She came down in a one-handed push-up position on the floor, and she proceeded to do another version of the butt bounce from that position as well. Oh. My. God. I had never seen a move like that, and apparently neither had the mob because there was an audible “OOOOHHH!” from everyone. Even DJ Loudmouth was heard to remark “Holy crap!” when she was finished. She won the contest. Madison took it pretty well. She had just wanted to beat the FSA—Amy, who didn’t even rank in the top three. Madison took an overall 2nd then things then went back to normal for the most part. Everyone started dancing badly again (with those damned GLOW STICKS!). Madison took to the bar and smoking with her friend, and Tom stayed watching a movie he couldn’t hear. Aurora was with us over by the DJ booth trying to get one of us to dance with her. But Randy didn’t want to miss Bobby asking the FSA to dance. Currently she was busy dancing with any guy she could as some sort of proof that guys still found her attractive or that she still had some piece of self worth after her loss. How sad. Because no one would dance with her, Aurora was forced to be part of the conspiring. It’s like this. When money is involved, you don’t have to talk Bobby into anything. He’ll do anything for 5 bucks, guaranteed. Flirt with random girls, eat random crap, whatever. Bobby will do it. Well, within reason, you know what I mean. But without money as a motivator, you have to stay on him, coax him gently into doing it, giving the issue constant attention. So, Randy was egging Bobby on, taunting him, and stroking his ego in all the right places in equal amounts to keep him psyched and focused on his task. And it was working, Bobby never took his eyes off her. Then after a few songs, Amy pried her latest grinding partner off of her and moved toward where we were standing at the DJ booth. Bobby’s eyes lit up. She obviously wanted to rest out a song or two, but Bobby was hot, and he moved over away from us to a spot 10ft from where she was standing and just started grooving. He jerked and convulsed, trying to get her attention with his dreadful moves, but she didn’t seem to notice him. Randy and I were doing all we could to keep from busting up. Aurora shook her head. When Amy didn’t notice Bobby after about 30 seconds, he danced closer, and then closer, till he closed the last 5 feet between them in a nifty little slide which he pulled off like a half-Jewish Fred Astaire. He startled the poor girl at first, but one look at his goofy grin and she knew he was harmless. He was still doing his little Makris groove thing, which I’m sure didn’t help his case when he asked, “Would you like to dance, please?” Randy and I busted up like we hadn’t in years. I’m sorry, but you had to be there, you really did. And when Amy turned Bobby down with a polite little “no” and a small smile, he slid right back out and danced his way back over to us, mission accomplished, undaunted by failure, grinning broadly, that was Bobby. Aurora took him out on the floor to dance as a reward, and Randy and I spent the next 5 minutes trying to work all the laughs out of our system. We were falling all over each other and I’m sure people “wondered” about us but we didn’t care. Sometimes Randy’s sick streak rubs off on me. It was just like old times. Well old times plus Madison. There was an after-club club that started at 4am and went till daybreak (because H2O closed at 2), which would have given us too much time to kill beforehand, and at that point we were dead tired. So even though Bobby promised the FSA we’d be there (she was helping Amanda hand out fliers as the place closed), we all went back to the Sandy Beach, and went comatose for several hours. Tom with Aurora on the sofa bed in the living room. Bobby and I in our room and Madison and Randy in his room…hehe. You knew we were tired when Madison, still high off her triumph, couldn’t find the will to speak on end about it in the car. Wow. The next morning wasn’t much of an experience. Except that Randy awoke me at 11am blasting Incubus’ Pardon Me directly in my ear from his portable boom box. The very act of which caused the boys from So Cal to jump off their CD and perform a little concert inside my head. Brandon Boyd’s vocals reverberated nicely throughout my skull after traveling through my recovering ear drums. “Before I kill you,” I started with Randy, “I want to know why you did that.” “Madison.” was all he said. And then I remembered his sleeping arrangements. I laughed for ten minutes straight. Randy was not amused. “YOU COULD’VE WARNED ME!” he said. I was laughing too hard to answer him. I mean he looked terrible. Bleary eyed, badly tanned, with a severe case of bed-head, he now also carried the look of one who’d barely survived the Madison Freight Train Express. Damn, it was funny. By the time I showered and brushed my teeth, Aurora and Randy had finished making breakfast. We listened to Incubus throughout the remainder of the morning. Tom and Aurora left shortly after breakfast in order to keep a date with the Anarchy kids, leaving me alone with The Lax Crew again. But Bobby surprised me by asking, “Why don’t we go jet-skiing?” To which, everyone was keen on so we dressed. The one thing I was learning about being in Ocean City was that a pair or two of good swimming trunks went farther than a week’s supply of boxers. I found some coupons for a jet-ski place about two blocks away and we were off for 27th street. Bob’s Water-ski Rentals was a little place that was nothing more than a parking lot, complete with a little kiosk for business and six or seven jet-skis by a make-shift “dock”. My coupons allowed ten bucks off the seventy that it cost to rent them for an hour. Then Bobby and I split the remaining sixty (for one) between us to save money. We’d just take turns on the same jet-ski. Sometimes it pays to have cheap half-Jewish friends. Randy surprised me and got his own. So did Madison. $115 dollars and some odd cents left. When they take you jet-skiing they cannot afford to let you just go hog wild right away. First, they strap a loud, orange lifejacket to you and then they take you in groups of six to the designated “riding area” (which is about one mile squared) in the middle of the bay. The trip over is designed to let you get a feel for the jet-ski’s control and speed. Understand that speed is VERY different on the water than it is on land. It’s much faster and much more fun. I let Bobby drive first because I wanted to get his turn out of the way and he was so damned eager. When we reached our destination, they let us loose. The only rule: don’t ride to close to the other riders. No one wants an accident or a crash…or an explosion. They actually say that. Now, on land Bobby drives like an old lady. Randy and I often request that Bobby wear lead shoes if he’s going to drive us somewhere (just like all old people should be required to wear them while driving). On water he went the same speed, it was just faster on the waves. After he got a hang of his initial start-stop, jerking phase, we were zipping around on the water at a pretty good speed. Randy gave Bobby the finger, so Bobby chased him, Madison stopped to adjust her top, Bobby zoomed over to get a closer look, all that good stuff. 15 minutes into it, he offered me my turn. I grinned. I wonder now, what that jet-ski’s top speed was in miles per hour. It felt like I was doing 80 as I took control and flew across the bay. I made donuts in the water, chased Randy s’more, took sharp turns, raced Randy, chased Madison, and went back over my own waves to do little jumps. I was having so much fun that it was a full two minutes before I noticed that I’d lost Bobby. He was coughing and spluttering over in an area where I’d made a particularly sharp turn, and I guess I missed his scream over the engine. Jet-ski’s are loud. “Why don’t you let me have another turn?” Bobby said as he climbed back aboard our black water chariot. I was glad to let him. I’d had my fun. He drove for the rest of the time, and then I drove back to the rental place when it was time to go. It was the most fun that I’d had in an hour so far. * * * Jesus, It’s two o’clock. I’ve been writing all day. My wrist hurts like a bastard. Countless pages, there’s just too much to tell. Tom and Randy keep calling me to practice but I’m holding out because if I start that then I won’t be able to break it off when Rosey calls. Which she should’ve done by now. Ah well, I’ll keep writing till she does. Well, first I’ll take a piss, and make a sandwich to rest for a bit. Then I’ll come back. I promise.
Copyright © 2002 MacKenzie Morgan |