Big Denny Goes on TV

I recently got a letter from the producer of a new TV show called Poker Personalities on Parade. "Hi, Max," it started. "I've been a big fan of yours for years. I'd love to hire you as my head writer and pay you $15,000 a week, but I checked with Barry Shulman and discovered that he has you locked into an exclusive 95-year contract. Just as well. We probably couldn't match what he's paying you anyway."

Oh, sure. My columns are so artfully crafted and meticulously researched that it takes me at least 20 hours to complete one, so I end up making less per hour than a child laborer in Bangladesh. And 35 percent of that goes to my shyster agent, Sherman H. Shlock, who has my everlasting thanks for negotiating the contract, which also includes a clause obligating me to shampoo Shulman's carpets every six months.

I continued reading: "Anyway, Max, the purpose of this letter is to hopefully set up a guest appearance for our premiere show."

"Mommy! Mommy!" I shouted. "I'm going to be on a new poker television show."

My sweetie glanced at the letter. "Read the rest of it, you idiot. They don't want you, they want Big Denny."

In despair, I kept reading. Sure enough, the producer went on to say that he found my narrations of Big Denny's escapades so hilarious that he wanted him as their first guest and wondered if I could talk to him.

I wasn't especially thrilled to do so, but I obediently called Denny and told him of the offer.

"How much dey gonna pay me?" he asked suspiciously.

"Pay? Well, obviously they'll pay your airfare and put you up at a first-class hotel, but interview programs normally do not pay their guests."

"No dough? Den why should I go on da bum's show?"

"Well, it will mean good exposure for you."

"Exposure? Ya means I gotta take my clothes off? What kinda show is it, anyhow?"

I explained that by exposure I meant publicity for the Barstow Card Casino. That appealed to him, so he went ahead and a date was set.

As expected, the network provided deluxe service. A limo arrived the day before the taping to take Big Denny to the airport. The cost of the ride went well beyond what was budgeted. By the time they got there, Denny had consumed all the food and most of the booze in the car, and three stops were required along the way to reload on provisions. At the airport, there was an ugly scene when security guards, alarmed at Big Denny's terrifying appearance, subjected him to a strip search, a procedure that he noisily protested and one that the security guards deeply regretted once they gazed on his naked body.

His tickets were first-class, but even so, the airline seats were not nearly large enough to accommodate his bulk, and two additional spaces had to be purchased. "Why don't we just stick the big ape in the cargo hold?" a steward muttered, but not loud enough to endanger his life.

Naturally, Big Denny made everyone on the flight miserable. He kept the stewardesses hopping, ordering double and triple portions of everything on the menu, then made so much noise chewing that he drowned out the jet engines. An elderly matron seated across the aisle from him could finally stand it no longer and sternly admonished him, saying, "Sir, must you masticate so loudly?"

Big Denny looked puzzled. "Masticate? I ain't even touchin' myself," he replied, causing the matron to faint dead away.

To everyone's relief, the plane finally landed, with a number of passengers vowing never to fly that airline again. Another limo, which he also ended up depleting, was on hand to take him to the Waldorf-Astoria. For his extended stay, Denny's baggage consisted of one change of underwear and his bowling ball, which he angrily grabbed back when a bellman tried to assist him. That night, his room service bill set a new record for the hotel, and he didn't get to bed until dawn because he was up all night watching adult movies on TV.

The next day, he was awakened and driven to the TV studio. He was already cranky from lack of sleep, and being taken to the makeup room didn't improve his mood. "Looks like they're doing a King Kong remake," one makeup artist whispered. "Do we have any trowels?" the other asked. Fortunately, Denny didn't hear those remarks, but when they tried to apply pale lipstick to downsize his apelike lips, he went berserk, and soon makeup supplies, along with the makeup artists, were flying across the room.

Eventually, he was escorted to his guest seat on the soundstage, the first time in television history that a guest had appeared in handcuffs and leg irons. The show's host was supposed to have been Regis Philbin, but Denny's indulgences had eaten up so much of the budget that they had to cut back and hire Dirty Wally instead. Wally was impeccably dressed in a classy silk Western suit that he had rented from Oklahoma Johnny Hale, the only jarring note being his usual water bottle sticking out of a back pocket. After spending 10 minutes talking about himself, Wally finally began his introduction of Big Denny.

"Evenin', ladies an' gents. I guess you all heard of Max Shapiro the famous writer. Well, we got as our guest tonight his number one character, the guy who runs the Barstow Card Casino. Let's give a big hand to the one and only Big Denny."

The response was dead silence as the audience gazed, stupefied, at the terrifying creature rattling his chains.

Wally tried to lighten the mood with a little humor. "Hey, Denny," he said, "I never knew fer sure if you was a real person or not. Now that I'm lookin' at you, I still ain't sure."

"Oh, yeah?" Big Denny responded. "Why don'tcha come a little closer an' I'll show ya if I'm real or not."

Wally prudently edged his chair away and tried a different tack. "So, how are things goin' at the casino these days, Denny?"

"Aww, da cops just raided us again," he grumbled. "Every time dey find a body someplace, dey t'ink we had somet'in ta do wit' it."

"Imagine that," Wally marveled. "Tell me, Denny, why did you locate in Barstow in the first place?"

"Dat's da dumbest question I ever heard. Where did ya expect da Barstow Card Casino ta be – in Pasadena?"

Wally groaned but kept trying. "Poker's so big on TV now, you gotta be doin' great business, ain't you, Denny?"

"Nah, none of da farmers here watches dose programs 'cause none of dem even got cable TV. Da only cable dey got is what dey use ta pull dere tractors, har, har, har."

"So business really ain't that good?"

"Aw, we does OK, Wally. See, we got real good dealers. All of dem are on commission. Da more dey snatches out of da pot, da more dey make."

Big Denny was starting to tire of all the questions. "Say, when does we eat, anyway?"

Wally was getting just as fed up with Big Denny's surly behavior. "Eat? Sure. Hey, Joe," he called out, "bring in a stalk of bananas."

That did it. Just like in those old Frankenstein movies, an enraged Big Denny began bellowing incoherently and breaking loose of his shackles. Wally, along with the camera crew and all the stagehands, scattered and ran off in all directions. The audience, thinking it was all part of the act, began laughing hysterically – that is, until Big Denny started moving in their direction, and then they hit the exits just as quickly.

With the aid of fire hoses and a barrage of tranquilizer darts, Big Denny was finally subdued and hustled aboard the first plane out of New York. The show is scheduled to air early next year, but it won't be part of the Poker Personalities programming.

Look for it on Animal Kingdom.