Sunday, May 28, 2006

Liz & Larry Live!

TV and Movie Lands are all abuzz about Liz Taylor and Larry King doing an interview on May 30 to “tell all.”

Much to my shock and horror, my latest suicide attempt went awry when I dropped my 12” black and white television into the tub – and then through some improbable cross-pollination of the tubes in the back, I was presented with the raw feed of the interview on some satellite uplink. I was disappointed twice in a matter of 30 seconds.

I quickly grabbed pad and pencil, and jotted down the interplay. Here’s what I got.

LARRY KING, host of Larry King Live, CNN: Liz, baby, it’s good to see you. Is the wheelchair uncomfortable? Is your oxygen line pinched, sweetheart? Maybe a little backup on the catheter discharge? You got this blue-green thing happening in your prodigious jowls, princess – anything we can help with to make you comfortable? MY GOD! What is that smell? Cameraman Bob? That you sweetheart? Liz, dear, you go pooty in your panties?

LIZ TAYLOR, physically enormous 110 year old trapped in the used body of a 74 year old, made a couple of B-grade movies over the years, used to be married to some famous guys including a construction worker: It is wonderful to be here, Larry, thank you for inviting me. No, I’m very comfortable. Thank you for asking. I work tirelessly to achieve this aqua tint. It’s a strategic pooling of blood, actually. I hope to make it a fashion trend for sick, fat, prematurely old people. And no, no pooty, my king – that hole was sewn over eight years ago after the rabid-gerbil incident. Got a bag now. Lemme make sure it isn’t leaking … [Ms. Taylor lifts her skirt and feels around underneath. Larry is watching closely. Liz pulls her bag into plain view for the camera. Little chucks of meatloaf float in a bloody mess. Something seems to be swimming inside. A tape worm? Its head presses against the bag wall and Larry begins to vomit. Liz is squeezing the bag to check for leaks. She lifts her hands to her nose and sniffs deeply, licking one, and then rearranges her clothing. Stage hands huddle around Larry, wiping him off and helping him to his chair.] No, Larry, all tight and dry. Mostly. A little around the cap, but I tightened it.

LARRY: Oh my, f----ing lord, I vomited so hard I voided myself. Liz, baby, let’s break for a minute while I go clean up. This is Larry King, and you’re watching Larry King Live! Be right back.

LARRY: We’re back! This evening is a very special time for us. Elizabeth Taylor, actress and activist, is in the studio with us. Welcome again, Liz.

LIZ: Great to be [Ms. Taylor seems to stifle a burp, perhaps a mild upchuck, and begins slowly chewing something in the back of her mouth] here, Larry. I, um, [inaudible, perhaps “oh, yes, turkey mixed with that young man who opened the door for me. Nice flavor that one.”] yes, Larry, nice to be here.

LARRY: You’ve done so much over the years, Liz baby. Tell us a good story.

LIZ: A good story, Larry? Oh my, there are so many of them! Did you and I ever get stinky, Larry? I seem to remember …

LARRY: I have a rule, Liz baby, no water buffalo. No offense intended. Got this sweet young thing …

LIZ: None taken, my sweet. You know, they say it all feels the same with the lights out.

LARRY: “They” are wrong. Trust me, Liz. Been there. Both sides of that coin. No comparison. Cough with a story, bloodhound.

LIZ: OK. Let’s see. [Ms. Taylor lifts her head as if scanning the skies for a story. Her neck fat unfolds and the pooling blood shifts like a lava lamp. Camera 3 flays off-set as the operator falls to his knees, wretching.] Oh, yes! [Ms. Taylor smiles broadly and whatever she had been chewing is visible. It has a head. It’s another tape worm.]

LARRY: Oh my, f----ing lord. [Larry vomits again. Hard, dry. The smell of urine fills the air.] Liz, baby, let’s break for a minute. Gather your thoughts and we’ll catch your story on the flipside. This is Larry King, and you’re watching Larry King Live! Be right back. Are we off feed? OK. I need a new suit, new chair, somebody spray the floor underneath me. Gimme five, folks, I’m shook to my f---ing core. Liz, get you anything, sweetheart? Tell this boy here. Anything you want. [The boy, it seems, was 19 year old Bradley. As he approached Ms. Taylor, his eyes widened as fear and revulsion surfaced when he saw her eyes fixed on his crotch.]

LARRY: [Walking off-set] It’s going to be a long f---ing night. Somebody find those glasses that fuzz everything about a foot or more in front of me. Maybe I can interview this hag better if I can’t see her. God, I need to hosed down and deloused, and I am not a page into my notes.

LARRY: Hey! We’re back with legend Elizabeth Taylor. Liz, you have a story for us?

LIZ: Yes, Larry. The first of many in our interview, I hope.

LARRY: The contents of my stomach are in the waste basket over there. My bladder was emptied on my chair. I even voided myself. Been hosed down twice and disinfected once. I’ve got all night, love. OH, S—T! Did I say all of that out loud? F—K! OK, OK, just edit it out. Let’s tape with this: Liz, sweetheart, I’m here forever for you.

LIZ: Well, Larry, it was September of 1975. Richard and I …

LARRY: Sir Richard Burton, your 5th and 6th husband?

LIZ: Yes, Larry. Richard and I hadn’t been “together” [Ms. Taylor lowered her head and put special emphasis on the word] in over a year. Well, I was rubbing the bedposts by that time!

LARRY: Is this going to be a sex story, Liz?

LIZ: Yes.

LARRY: I’m still a bit queasy here, babe. Think we can lead up to sex? Got anything neutral for now?

LIZ: We can lead anywhere you want to go, Larry.

LARRY: No, we can’t, Liz. Water Buffalo Rule, remember?

LIZ: Oh yes. Nasty little rule, tisn’t it? [Whereupon Ms. Taylor turned her head and flashed her violet eyes. The camera came in close and caught a twinkle. Larry was oblivious because of the glasses he was wearing. His eyes were magnified to almost three times their normal size, filling the oversized lenses.]

LARRY: I like rules, Liz baby. Particularly those that keep my ankle spanker safe and sound.

LIZ: Ankle spanker? Does that pump-action yogurt chucker come in flavors?

LARRY: I – think – I – am – going – to – be – sick … [Larry then leaned over and dry heaved himself into unconsciousness.]

BARBARA WALTERS, magically appearing in Larry’s seat: Good evening again, ladies and gentlemen. Larry was so overcome with emotion during his interview with Elizabeth Taylor that he couldn’t continue. I have asked to continue this important discussion.

LIZ: “Lady” is a funny word to come out of your mouth.

BARBARA: I slept with nothing that didn’t go looking for it first, tele-tubby.

LIZ: Who you calling tubby – you anorexic stick? Here, have some food! [Ms. Taylor then threw open her skirt and rapidly unscrewed her colon-in-a-bag. Placing it on the desk, she slapped down hard and the tape worm leapt onto Ms. Walter’s neck. Unfazed, Ms. Walters grabbed the worm, bit its head off, and spit it at Ms. Taylor, striking her in the folds of her neck.]

BARBARA: Tastes just like chicken, you fat slut! Worked yourself all the way down the food chain to a construction jock! You’re pathetic. [Ms. Walters then leapt over the desk and, knocking Ms. Taylor to the ground, started to pummel her face.]

[The feed continued for several more minutes, but was just audio. The fight was allowed to continue as set workers could be heard placing and paying off bets. The last words picked up probably came from the producer – “What an f---ing nightmare! Somebody call the fire marshal. I want a permit to burn this set. Maybe we can run “National Velvet” and have a bottom feed saying she wasn’t feeling well so the interview has been rescheduled. With any luck, she’ll die before then.”]

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