Ever heard of Floyd Cole? No? Well, he probably never heard of you, either.
Born in 1929 in Santa Monica, California, Mr. Cole was destined for greatness. In the April, 1940 issue of Modern Mechanix, Floyd was featured inflating a surfing pillowcase by running along the sand on what would eventually be known as Will Rogers State Beach.
But as one might suspect, Floyd's notoriety eventually faded. By the late 50's, he'd been in and out of relationships, in and out of flop houses, and relegated to singing for his supper in nightclubs around the LA beach area.
Floyd's singing talent and dashing good looks finally paid off, and it all came together for him when he moved to Las Vegas and joined the first wave of Elvis impersonators.
But loose women and an endless supply of 69 cent shrimp cocktails brought him down once again...and Floyd found himself working the low rent, off-the-strip, "Fat Elvis" circuit.
That's where his story might end, if it wasn't for Charlie Sheen...along with his mat buddy and cinematic partner in crime, Mister Dirk!
"I was doing some research on the history of mat surfing," Charlie purred while nursing what appeared to be the world's largest bottle of Irish Whisky.
"I've been inflating my 4GF's for years by running up the beach with the valve open...so the kid in the old Modern Mechanix article really caught my eye."
"Geez, running up the beach with your valve open is a lotta work to inflate a mat, Charlie..."
"You know what's a lotta work, Paulie? Listening to your whiny shit all day long."
"My bad! Go on..."
"So I'm thinking this kid was a friggin' genius. And no one knows whatever became of him. So I hired a local P.I. to track him down. All my gumshoe had to go on was the name scrawled on the pillow case."
"Yeah, Sherlock. Floyd Cole. So a couple very expensive weeks later, Phillip Marlowe finds the guy living in a trailer park outside of Sparks, Nevada. He's like 900 years old, and he's shacked up with this retired showgirl. Miss Flying Saucer of 1959, or some such bullshit..."
"So you contacted him?" I surmised, still in my sleuth mode.
"Yeah. I figure I got a lotta dough invested in finding Floyd, he's one of my heroes, and he's probably broke on his ass. So I grabbed Mister Dirk and we go out to Vegas to see him in Dirk's Jag."
"You mean Dirk's wife's Jag, don't you?"
"Yeah, whatever. It had a full tank of gas and the tags hadn't expired, so we took it."
"So you and Dirk were in Vegas? Together? At the same time? Is that legal???"
"Technically, no. After a couple days partying on the strip, we go thrown out of the Luxor. Dirk was counting cards at the blackjack table while I was trying to distract the dealer with compliments about her toochas. So we drive out to Sparks and meet with this Floyd cat. I slipped a few bucks into his tip jar, and we cracked a few cold ones to celebrate. Midway through his first beer, this guy starts telling us his life story. Just mind blowing stuff. Did you know that back in the 50's, babes would cook breakfast for you after sex? I'd trade a threesome with the Shannon twins for a onesy followed by homemade breakfast any day of the week! Holy shit, those were the days!"
"Amen to that! I read in Variety that you and Mister Dirk are involved in a biopic of Floyd..."
"Yeah, for once the dooshes over at Variety got it right. We were listening to Floyd go off on his personal history...and I realized this guy's life had Oscar winner written all over it! So I shoved a laptop in front of Dirk while Floyd was ranting. He and Dirk pounded out the screenplay in about 20 minutes. I barely had time to do Floyd's old lady in the back room before they finished."
"Wait a second...you're saying you had sex with Floyd's geriatric girlfriend while Dirk was distracting him with a screenplay about his life???"
"I don't know what to say, other than...Charlie Sheen, you are a friggin' genius!!!"
"Pretty much. Hey, she's still pretty hot, and no way Floyd's keeping her warm and fuzzy these days."
"So who's going to play Floyd in your picture?" I asked, already knowing the answer...
"Oh, me totally. We're going to concentrate on Floyd's decline after the Modern Mechanix piece, then his rebirth in Las Vegas. That's Dirk's specialty, script-wise. Crisis...crash...resurrection. The holy trinity of Mister Dirk's career!"
"You as an Elvis impersonator?" I cried out. "That's celluloid gold! You guys have won awards together before, yeah?'
"Shit. Totally. Spielberg was in tears when we took the Palme d'Or at Cannes back in '07 for "Two Guys in Suits With An Embossed Invitation To An Imaginary Mat Meet."
"If you count my promo appearance on Letterman that Monday...then yeah, 3 days."
"So how is Floyd holding up under the strain of another comeback?"
"He's stoked! We got him a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame last week. His only request was that me and Slash were there with him!"
"So it sounds like Dirk's content to stay behind the scenes?"
"Yeah. He's only interested in the Hollywood Hardware. Hell, I have to rent a storage facility in Pacoima just to hold all the trophies and shit Dirk has hustled me into! Dude's a one man cinematic killing machine!"
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