When I was fifteen my Ma decided it was time for me to get a job.

Personally, I was against it. I was perfectly content just sitting on my ass and watching television. Ma disagreed.

A friend of hers had a sister-in-law who managed a restaurant. Turns out they needed a busboy. Lily’s Restaurant was host to a veritable cavalcade of characters, each with their own brilliance and hilarious backstory.

..well. Not always hilarious. Sometimes just perverted or criminal. And maybe “brilliant” is a strong word for some of them. They were utterly inappropriate to be around a 15 year old virgin boy. But nevertheless, they were a fun crew.

Perhaps my favorite of them was Dave the Porn Star.

They called him G Money because of their love of irony and hate of rap music.

Dave was in his late forties/ early fifties. He was an aging Jewish man who’d seen the road and lived the life of a drifter; he waited tables all across the country to save away for the house he was building in Hawaii, but he’d been at Lily’s for a few years by then. At some point in his storied travels, Dave was offered the opportunity to thrust his penis into a vagina on camera. Not being one to turn down vagina or money, he took the job.

These days, you can find unattractive people having sex on camera literally anytime you want and you can choose from millions of fat couples. It’s a smorgasboard orgys-board of bumping literal uglies.

But back then, this was the sort of porn that you would only find in back alley bargain bins and dumpsters. Modern porn stars look like gay male models. G looked like he jerked off in mens rooms.

Whenever the staff had a party, they had a ritual. When the party reached peak drunkenness, they would chant “Show us the movie, G!”. After the cheer sated him, he would say “Alright guys, here it is…” and pop in a VHS cassette. I waited with trepidation and a little bit a of pee as the movie came to life… only for it to be something else entirely. G Money had mastered Rick-rolling before the internet.

To this day, I’ve never seen this legendary pornographic film. But for ten years after, anytime I visited an adult bookstore, I kept an eye out for G Money’s grizzled penis.

He only ever made the one movie, but G never lost his love for showbusiness. He took every opportunity to pull out his cock like there was a fire and only his genitals could extinguish it. Many was the Saturday night when we would close up the restaurant, the beer flowing like wind on a mountain top, when some poor drunken fool would yell out “G MONEY!!!” Dave would smile shyly. ”Come on, guys, no. Not tonight.” But he could not halt their cheers and chants. They would beg the Grandmaster, G Money, for a show.

I was only 16 the first time Dave put on a show. I didn’t know what I was in for. What in God’s name was he about to do? He walked into the back room, where the darkness consumed him. We all stood in a line in front of the bar, waiting for the Dave train to come on through. Three men down from the door, I stood impatiently. He called out from the blackness. ”Turn it up!” I don’t remember what song they played on the radio. I don’t remember who was around me or what they said before. I don’t really even remember what color the waitresses’ thongs were. But I remember the first time I saw a semi-naked male porn star.

He strutted out with his poofey chest hair and un-pedicured, smelly feet. Sweat gilistened off of his body. His tighty-whitey Fruit of the Loom undies were stretched out and loose hanging. Our laughter was instantaneous and grew exponentially as he walked past us. One by one, we fell like dominoes as he sauntered past us, breaking down into pure hysterics. We were nearly dying as he jumped on top of the bar. G’s pelvis thrusted back and forth lasciviously. He shook his money maker like it was his last day on Earth. Indeed, G hadn’t lost any of that old Jew penis magic.

But after a few minutes, G could tell something was off.

Sure, he knew it was funny. Dancing semi-naked on a bar had always been a crowd-pleaser for him… even at children’s birthday parties. It was funny. But it was never quite that funny. So what were we all laughing at? And suddenly, “lil G” stopped pumping. The money maker stopped with the rump shaking. And he asked us why we were crying. Begrudgingly, we pointed to the mirror behind him. His head turned and dropped down. His eyes shuttered and his head shook as he noticed the giant brown skid mark dividing his butt like the Grand Canyon.

Sure, he laughed despite himself. But I think a little piece of Dave the Porn Star died that day.

…

Nah. I’m bullshitting. He just got fucked up and kept dancing.