Chapter 32: Laszlo

As you can imagine there were quite a few crazy characters who came in while Sara was working at the sex shop. There was none other more notorious than an overweight white guy in his forties named Laszlo. Laszlo had a brown mullet with a receding hairline.

He was a friendly guy, but he talked like someone who was fucked up on pills or really drunk. He talked really slow, sometimes mumbling. Talking to Laszlo was like talking to an outgoing positive version of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. He talked in that same slow monotone voice.

"Hey...it's me...Lasssssszzzzzzzzllllllooooooo!"

Laszlo loved porn. His brain was an encyclopedia of adult content. He knew every porn star by name. He knew the latest porn releases and who won the porn awards. He was constantly testing the sex store employee's knowledge.

"Who is considered the first American Porn star?"

Majority of them did not give a fuck but Sara would try to humor him.

"I don't know, who is it Laszlo?"

"Linda Lovelace, born Linda Susan Boreman, became famous for her performance in Deep Throat. The movie became a cultural phenomenon and brought adult films into mainstream." Laszlo replied.

Laszlo also apparently loved pills and weed. He came into the sex shop floating around like his pockets were filled with helium balloons. At any moment he looked as if he could fall over. Sara and her coworkers used to watch him walk around the store on the security cameras and try to avoid him.

Sara used to like working late nights on weekends. It was when the store was most busy. The store remained open until 2am most weekends.

It was not uncommon when Sara was working late for Laszlo to show up. One night he was walking around the store and managed to fall down and knock a DVD display over on top of himself.

Laszlo had picked up a DVD after starring at it in silence for 20 minutes. He attempted to take his wallet out of his pocket to count his money, and his pants were too tight. He struggled for five minutes just to get his hand in and out of his pocket. From the wrong angle it must have looked like he was jerking off. When he finally got the wallet out it flew out of his hands and pocket and onto the floor.

Laszlo attempted to lean over and pick up his wallet. He lost his balance because he was on drugs and fell over grabbing the shelf as he went down. He fell on the floor with a shelf and a hundred porn DVDs on top of him.

Sara told me they saw the whole thing play by play on the camera, but no one wanted to go out there and clean it up or help him. Laszlo laid on the floor for about ten minutes.

Laszlo started calling for Sara’s coworker. He apparently thought Sara’s coworker’s name was David. It was not. It was not even close to David. It was Andrew. Andrew was a tall skinny white guy. He mainly handled the cash register and rarely talked to customers out on the floor.

Laszlo calls out like a wounded animal, “David!”

Laszlo waits about 30 seconds and then calls again, “David!”

Sara’s coworker shouted back “My name’s not David!”

Laszlo paused for a bit longer and then continued “David!”

This went on for about ten minutes before Sara got sick of it and went over to help him. Everyone else just hid in the back office. She pretended to discover him as she walked around the store.

"Oh Laszlo! What happened?" Sara said fighting back laughter.

Sara helped him up and cleaned up the shelf and DVDs. Laszlo rearranged his shirt and pants. He put his wallet back in his pocket. Laszlo quietly thanked her and immediately left.

The following week Sara overheard Laszlo and her coworker “Not David” arguing about weed.

"Hey man, can you sell me some weed?" Laszlo said loudly in front of the whole store.

"I told you not to come ask me for weed when I am at work dumbass!" Andrew replied angrily.

Laszlo continued to stand there with a dumb look on his face.

"I don't have any weed. I am sick of you coming into the store all fucked up asking me for weed. Sara and her boyfriend sell weed! Go ask her!"

Laszlo looked around the store and spotted Sara. She was watching them from across the aisles. When she noticed Laszlo looking for her, she immediately turned around and went back to work on the far side of the store.

Laszlo approached Sara in an empty aisle.

"Do you sell weed?" Laszlo asked.

"My boyfriend does." she told him nervously.

This began my adventures with Laszlo.

Sara gave Laszlo my phone number. She sent me a text telling me to expect his phone call.

I immediately called her.

"Who did you give my number to?" I asked.

"You know the weird guy who always comes into the sex shop. The one who fell over last week and knocked over the DVDs. Remember I told you about it?" Sara said.

"Ya, why are you giving a crazy guy like that my number. I don't even sell weed." I responded.

"Andrew told me he's filthy rich. Everyone always makes fun of him at the shop. I feel sorry for him. Maybe you can pick up extra stuff when we go to the dispensary and charge him a bit extra." Sara proposed.

"Hold on, I have a call on the other line." I told her.

I answered the call on the other line.

"Hello?"

"Hi Jordan, it's me Lasssssssszzzzzlllllloooooo!"

"Sara, your girlfriend who works at Pleasure Point sex shop said you would sell me weed." He continued.

"Actually Laszlo, I don't sell weed. But I do have a medical marijuana card and if you can give me a ride to the dispensary. I will go inside and buy stuff for you with your money. All I ask is you make it worth my time." I told him.

I never specified an exact amount of weed or money I wanted as payment. Laszlo would give me $100-200 a week to spend at the dispensary for him. Out of each $100 he spent; he always gave me $20 worth of the weed. Laszlo would drive me to different dispensaries, and it gave me a chance to see what other shops had as far as pricing and quality. I felt like a weed secret shopper.

If Laszlo wanted edibles or anything special, he always gave me money to buy one for myself as well. I never took advantage of Laszlo and always honored our agreement. I know some people like Donnie Borrow lied about pricing to make an extra buck.

One the way home from our weekly shopping trip, Laszlo often asked:

"What kind of pizza toppings do you like?"

"Pepperoni. Why?" I replied

I lived across the street from a Papa John's Pizza. Laszlo would pull into the parking lot before dropping me off.

"I am hungry. Wait here." Laszlo told me.

Laszlo would go inside for ten minutes and come outside with two pizzas. One pizza for Laszlo and one pizza for me.

Laszlo also had a habit of giving me different calendars as well. He would just show up to pick me up to go to a dispensary and he would have new calendar for me. They were always for past years and essentially expired. I have no idea what the deal with the calendars was. Where he got them or why he kept giving them to me?

Every week it became a routine. Laszlo would call me, obviously I would know it was him because I had his number saved in my phone. Every time he acted like I did not know it was him when I answered.

He would tell me “Hey Jay, it’s me, Lasz-loooow!”

He said the same thing over and over every week. I would put him on speaker and Sara, and I started developing our own impressions.

Sometimes Laszlo would be so fucked up he would forget my name and called me Jared. Even though I 100% knew it was Laszlo, and he was calling for me, if he asked for Jared or called me Jared, I told him:

"Sorry wrong number" and hung up on him.

I started to understand why “Not David” was so mad.

I started to get to know Laszlo through casual conversation during our trips. I soon discovered he was filthy rich. He owned a house in a wealthy neighborhood not far from where Sara and I lived called Palos Verdes.

Laszlo’s father had been a professional athlete and owned some successful business. Laszlo lived by himself in a giant mansion with a view of Los Angeles. He did not work; he had a large monthly allowance instead. His father had passed away a decade earlier and Laszlo received an inheritance. It was just limited for his own financial protection.

He had a prescription from a bootleg doctor for all kinds of pills. Xanax, Oxycodone, Klonopin. He took them all at once every few hours and then smoked a bunch of weed every day. He was so high he basically just floated around life without a care in the world.

On the internet I started to hear rumors about dispensaries in Downtown Los Angeles with better quality weed for cheaper prices. I convinced Laszlo to start driving me there to check out the new shops. Riding in the car when he was driving was scary. Laszlo made turns from lanes that were not turn lanes. He drove dangerously fast or dangerously slow there was no safe in-between.

On the freeway he would jump in and out of the express lane. He once plowed through a toll road gate without paying while I was in the car with him. He just kept going and did not give a fuck. A few minutes later he had already forgotten.

When we got back to his house, he saw the damage on the front of his car and said:

"Who the fuck dented my car in the parking lot?"

Laszlo was always inviting us over to his house to smoke and hang out. On occasion he spent extra money on some really good weed at the dispensary, and I wanted to try it, so I eventually reluctantly agreed to come over.

"If I am going to hang out at Laszlo's house, you are coming with me. You signed me up for this shit in the first place!" I told Sara.

Sara and I got his address and looked it up to discover he was living in one of the richest areas of an already rich neighborhood. It took about ten minutes to reach his house. Outside peacocks grazed on the lawn.

"Are you ready for this?" I asked Sara joking.

"I don't think I will ever be ready for this." said Sara.

We walked up Laszlo's driveway and outside the door was a pile of shoes lined up neatly. There was one pair of men’s shoes, one pair of women’s shoes and one pair of kid’s shoes.

We knew Laszlo was not married and he did not have kids, so we thought we were at the wrong house.

We were seconds from turning around and leaving when the front door opened and Laszlo appeared. He was wearing a Hugh Hefner style robe and looked his usual disheveled self.

"Hey guys mi casa uh you casa. Welcome to my house. Come on in!" Laszlo said as he beckoned us inside.

We followed him into his living room. His house was immaculate. His living room consisted of two fancy looking couches separated in the middle by a large coffee table. He had two televisions on opposite walls. On the coffee table sat a really nice bong, although it looked like it had never been cleaned.

Sara and I sat together on one side of the couches. Laszlo sat down across from us. The robe popped open as he stumbled over to sit on the couch and we saw everything. He was naked under the robe for some bizarre reason.

Laszlo had a beautiful view of the ocean and L.A. from his balcony, and he told us he went out there every morning wearing his robe. We could only imagine what the neighbors had seen.

On the Television Laszlo had the Tommy movie made by the band The Who playing.

Laszlo packed everyone a bong rip.

"What kind of pizza do you guys like?" Laszlo asked.

I could tell Sara did not want to stay that long.

I was trying my absolute hardest to not look in his direction to avoid making eye contact with his penis. I accidentally looked down and that is when I noticed something almost as bad as Laszlo's junk. He had a severe burn on his leg. It looked like someone had tried to make a potato chip on his thigh.

I must have made a face because Sara whispered to me:

"Did you see his penis? It's gross looking!"

"No look at his leg. It's got like third degree burns on it." I whispered back.

Sara looked down at Laszlo's leg.

"Dude Laszlo what is that on your leg? It looks really bad like you need to go to the hospital?"

"It's not that bad. I was cooking and I fell asleep." Laszlo told us.

Sara and I looked at each other.

"I am fine!" Laszlo reassured us.

"How the fuck do you fall asleep cooking and burn your leg?" I whispered to Sara.

We took a few more bong rips and then made an excuse to leave.

"Don't leave yet." Laszlo said to us as we got close to the door.

We turned around attempting to come up with another excuse.

"Hold out your hands." Laszlo said walking up behind us.

Sara looked at me unsure. We both held out our hands.

"Here you go! I haven't had anyone come over except Maria the maid in years. Thanks for coming over!" Laszlo said.

Laszlo emptied a handful of the good new weed he had purchased that week into my hand. Then he emptied his other hand into Sara's hand. It was a mixture of several of the pills he took.

I would be lying if I said we never went to his house again. His weird behavior was kind of a price you paid for free weed and food. Sara was always happy to get some free pills.

Every time we went to Laszlo's house, he was wearing that robe watching the movie, Tommy. Every time it always seemed to be on that scene where the woman is eating beans.

Like clockwork he set the movie up beforehand every time we came over. It was weird even for him.

Laszlo was a weird, drugged out guy, but for the most part he seemed like he had a good heart. I felt sorry for him because he had no friends and his family had abandoned him. Laszlo always took care of me when I bought weed for him. He always made it worth my time.

Our arrangement went on for at least six months. Then one day Laszlo calls me on the phone and tells me the bad news.

"My mother came over randomly last week and found my medical marijuana containers. This week she said she hired a private investigator to spy on me and uncover who is getting me weed."

"Is this real?" I asked him.

"I saw the guy outside my house and noticed him following me on my usual trip to the sex shop." Laszlo told me.

"Sara saw him too." Laszlo added.

I turned to Sara and asked:

"Why didn't you tell me about Laszlo's private investigator?"

"I just thought he was nuts." Sara explained.

"Well dude, if your mother hired a private investigator maybe we should take a break from hanging out for a little while. Until the heat dies down." I told Laszlo.

"Ok that sounds like a good idea." Laszlo told me.

A few days later Laszlo called me acting like normal planning to get some weed.

"Hey Jordan, it's me, Lassssssssssszlo!"

I ask him:

“What about the private investigator?”

Laszlo had forgot he told me about it.

"Oh yah. It's not a big deal. You can still sell me weed." Laszlo told me.

"What happens if the private investigator sees me? They are going to take my picture and info and call the police." I told Laszlo.

"I don't know man." Laszlo told me.

"I think it's best if I don't get you any weed for a while." I replied.

"She's not gonna call the police she just wants to stop me from buying weed!" Laszlo shouted on the phone.

I hung up. Laszlo did not take it well. He kept calling me days later forgetting we had talked and I knew about the private investigator and I had to tell him over and over to stop calling me.

Eventually I sent Laszlo the address for the place in Venice Beach where Sara and I got our medical marijuana certificates. I text him:

"Get your own legal medical card and maybe your mom will back off. I don't think the police will care if you have a medical card."

He thanked me and I never heard from him again.

Chapter 33: The Fetish Chamber