"JANIS" A SHORT STORY

"JANIS"

The New Orleans Pop Festival was this hippie's dream come true. I had all the dope I could possibly smoke. Uppers and downers were passed around like candy mints. And the music, the groovy non-stop music, blew my mind. I was in fucking nirvana.

"Fuck me, Baby and I'll get you backstage," a long-haired freak propositioned. "How do you plan on carrying that number off?" "With these," he replied, flashing two V.I.P. passes. It was worth the risk. I'd had sex for less that day.

"Well, whip it out, Brother. But, you better not be shitting me or I'll tie that dick of yours in a knot." "You want to do it here?" "Why the hell not? Everyone's too stoned to give a shit." He grabbed me up in his arms and I straddled his waist. With a couple of thrusts it was over. "OK, I met my side of the bargain. Get that thing of yours back in your jeans. It's payoff time."

"Here's some Purple Haze," he offered. "It's guaranteed to blow my mind, right?" I dropped the acid. Shit, I wouldn't even need a tab to be tripping, if he could get us past the Hells Angels guarding the stage's side entrance.

"Son Of A Bitch! You do have fucking pull after-all," I told the guy as we slid by security with a flash of his passes. "Come on, Babe. We've got people to meet. How'd you like to hand with the "Dead" while I take care of business?" "You mean the "Grateful Dead?" He nodded. "Far fucking out. Lead the way, Daddy."

I wondered if it would be cool to tell this guy I was really into chicks. I mean, I had screwed him after-all and didn't want to fuck things up now. But damn, there was too much pussy around me to resist. I'd say I was bi, and hopefully, he wouldn't freak out when I hit on a broad.

Not only was he laid back about my scene, but told me he got off on dicks every now and then. We could hang out and have a fucking orgy.

"Catch you in a few and then, we'll start cruising. I've got some deliveries to make." "Do your thing," I said, "The chicks around here don't seem to be going anywhere."

I met Patti Santos of "A Beautiful Day" and Grace Slick of "Jefferson Airplane". "You think I could score with them?" "Dunno," he shrugged, "I think they like it hard and long. But, I do know a singer, who'd let you scarf her up. Shit, she'd let anyone scarf her up, for that matter." "Where is she? I'm horny as a mother fucker."

He pointed to a scraggily haired, scanky looking female leaning against an amp. She was scratching her crotch with one hand and holding a bottle of Southern Comfort in the other. "Is that who I think it is?" "In the flesh," he answered, "And I'd bet you could drop to your knees and have at her in a flash. She, probably, wouldn't even know it was happening."

I looked back over at Janis, who was now hurling. I doubted any of my groupie friends had bragging rights on laying her. But, damn!!!

"Let me think about that one, Man," I said. "No hurry. She and "Big Brother" have a set to do next. Say the word and I'll do intros when they're through."

I watched her commanding presence on stage. She grinded and gyrated to the pounding beat. Her throaty voice screamed and reverberated through every fiber of my being. There was no one like Joplin. No one came close to her. She fucking rocked.

I flashed back to my earlier vision of the homely, bile spewing, drunk digging at her pubes. Her act was finishing up with the song "Down On Me". It had always been a favorite of mine and Janis' belting rendition that night was unfuckingbelievaable. The crowd was in a frenzy.

"Down On Me. Down On Me," I heard her screech the soulful lament into the mike. "Cant' go down on you," I sang to myself, "Baby, can't go down on you."

"She's heading our way, Sweetheart. You want to do her or not?" I glanced in the direction of Janis. "I'll pass. Shit, I couldn't eat her with your mouth." He laughed out loud, "Well, it was worth a try. Let's find something more appetizing for you to wrap your tongue around. It's not like there's no fresh meat here."

"Hey, what about Melanie? You think she's queer?" "You've got to check that out for yourself. But, I'd bet she doesn't have crabs or smells like puek." "Sounds delicious already. I'm starving," I told him as we wandered off passing Joplin on the way.

Just a few years later as I lay in bed in a dingy hotel with a hot broad from California our fuck session was interrupted by a call. The chick blanched and emitted a gasp before the uncontrollable sobs began. "My ex is dead. She's overdosed."

The world lost a treasure that day. She was a rare gem. I'll always regret that I didn't get it on with the diamond in the rough that was the infamous Janis Joplin.