Written by Pauly with S. Adkins, Keren, Juan F. Rib, Simanoff and B. Singer.
Ivan, a balding Russian cab driver from Brooklyn, anxiously awaits his turn in the taxi stand line at JFK airport. A middle-aged woman wearing red shoes and sunglasses, drags several bags and two small screaming children with her, as she approaches the cab. Ivan scurries out of the front seat and casually throws the woman's luggage into his trunk while the unruly children dart into the back seat, making eye-popping screeching noises, as they hit each other and pull at each other's hair. "Please take me to the Plaza Hotel," she says in a calm voice, while trying to prevent her children from killing each other. That is when Ivan realized that those weren't rambunctious kids in the backseat, rather they were drunken midgets dressed in children's clothing.
Ivan settled into the driver's seat, switched on the meter, and wrestled his cab into the torrent of midafternoon airport traffic, nearly smashing into a Tic Tac-shaped Geo Metro when he overheard the smaller midget squeal to his guardian, "We're gonna fuck you so good tonight, Mommy -- we're gonna fuck your brains out." The woman with the red shoes laughs as she pulls a bottle of prescription pills out of her purse and hands two bluish pills to each of the drunken midgets. She says, "Well these bootleg Viagra better work or you and your brother will be back in that stinking rat infested hole in Paris, the Ritz, where I found you with your father, ugh, those animals he has sex with and that, that used to turn me on in the 1980s, but today, his deviant sexual behavior just isn't enough for me anymore." The midgets swallow the pills, while she continues to talk to the cab driver. "I want a stable concrete relationship, something that a Rum drinking, marshmallow eating, feline necrophiliac is unable to offer me, and that's why we are here in New York, to see the good Doctor."
Ivan nodded politely as he tried to ignore the odd but not entirely unpleasant sensation of a pair of protruding objects, becoming rapidly elongated, prodding him on either side of his back. He had been in this situation before, but that was nearly twenty years earlier, when he was just a soldier serving in Mother Russia's Army, when one day after a few too many cocktails, he innocently wandered into an all-male Turkish Bath House in Istanbul. He remembered that day clearly. As the muezzen atop the famous Blue Mosque called faithful Muslims to mid-afternoon prayer, Ivan was throwing back shots of Raqi, the clear licorice liquor that turned milky when you added a splash of water. When he reached the familiar threshold of near-blindness, he stumbled out onto the streets, sporting a red fez, and found his way to the Atta Boy, Attaturk bath house.
Ivan foolishly lost the red fez in East Berlin just before the Wall fell in 1990. It was not only a symbol of his lost innocence, but a well traveled favorite personal item of Ivan's, from the rugged mountains of Uzbekistan, to the whore houses in Minsk, to the dirty and over crowded streets of Moscow, to the bath house in Turkey, he wore it every day with gleaming pride. Ivan lost that and much more when again one early Tuesday morning, in a drunken binge fueled by rampant Russian melancholy, he wandered into an alley where several rouge agents of the STASI were interrogating a possible Wall Jumper and defector. Three large men with raincoats were beating an old man with his cane, taking turns urinating on him. When Ivan saw this he laughed, but his laughter spilled over into anger and he began shouting obscenities in Russian. The agents had no idea what he was saying, they just continued to beat on the old man. "Achtung! Nien" yelled Ivan. The lead agent stopped his urination in mid stream, zipped up his pants, and pulled out a knife from underneath his raincoat and began to run towards Ivan. As the agent was about to stab Ivan, a shadowy figure jumped out of the darkness and shot down all the agents. In the confusion of the sudden spray of AK-47 machine gun shells, Ivan fell to the ground and watched his would be savior disappear back into the darkness. After a few seconds, Ivan jumped up and ran out of the alley. Unknown to him, his favorite red fez lay still on the ground just inches away from the lifeless body of the knife wielding STASI agent, and that was the last time he saw his fez.
Scratching himself, Ivan looked around through Stoli-glazed eyes. Onlookers were trickling into the alleyway faster than the black blood that trickled from the agents' fatal wounds. Ivan got up, forgetting his fez, and ran without looking back, sprinting through the serpentine streets of East Berlin, breathing heavier than the two midgets now in his back seat. Ivan instantly snapped out of his flashback and headed his taxi for the Queens Midtown Tunnel, as the lady with red shoes grew more impatient with the bumper to bumper traffic and grew slightly agitated with the midgets uncouth behavior. Ivan readjusted his rear view mirror in a pathetic attempt to look busy as he idled through traffic, and saw the lady furiously rummaging through her oversized alligator-skin purse -- he though she looked like a child, trying to fish the plastic toy out of a full cereal box -- until she finally found her prize and pulled it out of the bag. A mammoth sized dildo was unleashed from her bag, fluorescent green in color and as wide as a piano leg in girth, she swung swiftly knocking the louder midget in the side of his face.
The louder midget, seeing this dildo for the first time ever, after many years of the most frantic world wide searches from Istanbul to Kabul, from the stinking flea and roach infested hellholes all over the fleshpots of Asia to the Middle East and beyond. He said, "You have found it!! The dildo of the heavens!! Never in all my years have I set my eyes upon it." The lady with the red shoes smacked him again across the side of his face this time drawing blood. He ignored the dripping blood and still continued to ramble, "I have heard only twisted tales of its mythical magical powers!! Oh Ma! Oh Ma! Oh my goodness gracious me, you must give it to me first oh, yes I must have this pleasure and pain!"
With that the quiet midget yanked the pants off the louder midget and snatched the mammoth dildo from the lady with the red shoes' grip, as Ivan spastically kept turning his head back and forth to see what all the commotion is going on in the backseat. In one fantastic thrust, the quiet midget rammed the fluorescent green dildo straight up his fellow midget’s rectum, and the louder midget howled like a dying wolf. The lady with the red shoes spiraled into a sexual frenzy of undulated orgasms with her hands alternating between violently twisting her nipples and rapidly fingering her monsoon drenched crotch. The orgiastic Caligula type scene in the backseat got too much for the overworked and fatigued Ivan, but he knew the Plaza Hotel was just a few blocks away, and if could just hold out for a few more minutes, he could get rid of the freaks and end his shift. However, the twisting and fingering and moaning lady with the red shoes launched her arm into the open sliding plastic partion door, a standard safety device found in all NYC taxis, separating the backseat from the frontseat, and grabbed ahold of Ivan's right nipple and began to turn and twist. Repulsed and startled, he angrily slammed on his breaks in the middle of sweltering midtown NYC traffic. Bodies in the backseat went flying and the louder midget crashed into the safety partion instantly getting wedged in the opening. He was stuck and couldn't wiggle himself free. The lady with the red shoes had smashed her head on the partion and began to bleed profusely and passed out with her hand still logged up her skirt, while the quiet midget opened the door and sprinted out into traffic. Ivan pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911.
"Yes, I have been a cab driver for 10 years and I have seen alot in this odd city, but you will never believe this. I am on 37th Street and Madison Avenue. I need an ambulance. I have a foul mouthed naked, drunken, Viagra popping midget stuck in the plastic partion of my cab, with the largest dildo I have ever seen impaled in his ass. His nipple twisting mother or girlfriend or both has cut her head badly and she is passed out with her hand caught in her jungle area and yes that evil lady with the red shoes and alligator purse is solely responsible for this inconsiderate irresponsible behavior. Oh yeah I forgot to tell you about the one who escaped. Be on the look out for a quiet drunk midget dressed in kids clothing." Ivan hung up the cell phone and waited for the authorities to arrive. He reached under his seat and pulled out a flask of Stolichnya Vodka, took a huge swig, closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift to less hectic days when he was in madly in love with a Greek amatuer porn star and was making a comfortable living smuggling arms and weapons for the Ukrainian Mafia into Sierra Leone, in exchange for diamonds. But that story, is for another time...
