by Art Arduous


            Muk used a metal sharpener to get a fine point on the charcoal pencil. He blew it clean. He was sitting outside by the pool, smoking a joint and making lazy sketches on a big pad. He was drawing by the dancing light of the Tiki torches that edged the terrace deck. Beyond, Los Angeles glittered like a million fiery diamonds on black velvet. Wadded and balled sheets of paper were littered in a circle around him. Tomorrow was a workday and he had limited himself to four drinks but he was thinking about a fifth.

            Pedro was inside crafting a house mix. Someone in the crew besides Muk needed to have DJ skills and Pedro was attacking it with passion.

Blu had her face in two laptop screens with an eye on the TV channels. She was fascinated by the Ali BeeDee business. Having met the troubled pop star, Blu felt as if she had an investment in the exploding story; she was a part of it.


After TMZ broke the arrest late this morning, the Drudge Report had picked it up by noon. The Huffington Post gave it a big byte at three. By now, all of the Internet gossip sites were muttering about it, eager for the story and jealous that TMZ snatched the scoop. Ali had a long history of mayhem and scandal and there was much to cover. Each channel seemed to stake out their specialty. Emperor focused on her long friendship and subsequent warfare with Paris Hilton. OMG! led the charge with the Bobby Freemani engagement and breakup. Pop Eater jumped into the pool with the Rihanna riot debacle. Just Jared cornered the rehab replay. RadarOnline was backpedaling to claim their territory and find a lead.

At the six o'clock news hour, only a few of the mainstream news outlets had gotten wind of the story. By ten o'clock, a few channels were loading their big guns with promises of endless coverage. Harvey Levin and the TMZ gang were cackling with glee. No one else had any footage of the juicy standoff and the resisting of arrest. The TMZ logo was featured prominently on all the network coverage.


Muk's phone began to vibrate. He set his charcoal pencil down and answered it, "McKaylee."

"Muk, it's Shelia." Shelia Westwater was an old girlfriend. She was also Muk's connection to Ali BeeDee. "As you probably know, she's been arrested."

"Yeah. Hard to avoid now."

"Is there anything we can do for her?"

"I don't know. Resisting arrest is kinda touchy."

Shelia laughed mournfully, "Yeah... Yeah, it was kinda funny."

"Were you there?"

"Oh, yeah. She got tipped off last night. That the cops were gonna come in the morning. I went over to get her cat but she was amped and half in the bag already. We started to party."

"Who tipped her off?"

"We dunno. A muffled voice on the phone. So we looked at her options. Mexico was looking good for a while. Then we ran out of tequila. She was getting jazzed about Columbia because she wanted some coke but you can't drive to Columbia. We were all over the map until the sun started to shine. The cops came and reality set in and Ali flew off the handle."

"What cops? What city?"

"Beverly Hills police."

"Huh." Muk knew that the LA Police Department should have made the arrest. Ali lived in K-Town on their turf.

"A paparazzi truck was there at least a half hour before the cops." Shelia was laughing, "That got Ali going. When the cops rang the doorbell, yeesh. She poured a big bucket of water down below. Fortunately, the first few times didn't soak anybody and they moved back. We were lighting toilet paper rolls on fire and throwing them out the window..."


"Oh, yeah. Only a couple. It was a scene."

"They didn't see you?"

"No. I stayed in back and lit and tossed. It was hilarious. Megaphones and helicopters. Before it got bad, Ali sauntered out the front door and locked it behind her like the Last Man Standing. That's when she started swinging her purse."

"I haven't seen any of that. I've just heard about it. How did you get out?"

"The back. I grabbed the cat and her suitcase, Ali's suitcase, not the cat's, I forgot the cats. And we split, me and the cat, down the back stairs. I'm on TV. When the cops are closing in on Ali and she's swinging her purse, you can see me in the background politely, slowly, innocently, walking down the driveway, with a cat and a suitcase... You know K-Town. Thank God, I didn't park my car in front! I got saved by lousy parking."

"I'm speechless." Muk stood. He realized his sarong was covered in charcoal pencil shavings. He used the sketchpad to whisk them away. The dogs thought this might be play and they started to dance around him.

"Is there anything we can do?"

"I dunno. I think the whole jewelry thing is bogus, but now she's got..."

Shelia interrupted, "Day before yesterday, the Beverly Hills cops questioned her. But only barely. Like ten minutes and they were gone. Ali thought it was weird."

Muk found that interesting. "Anyway, resisting arrest is bad. You can't get away with it."

"Anything we can do?"

"Does she have an attorney?"

"I'd imagine so. You'd think so. Hell, she needs, like, a full time one."

"Maybe she doesn't. They're expensive. I'll ask my friend Tricky Vicki if she can do anything." 

"We've got to get her out of jail. It's cruel and unusual and the food really sucks."

"Well, maybe I can help get bail. I have an account at Armstrong Brothers. But we don't need it right now.

"What do you mean?"


"They've gotta work up some charges. And they don't need to do it quickly."


"Yeah. Poor Ali." She then asked, "Do you really have an account with a bail bondsman?"

"Always be prepared. Call me if you hear something."

"I will, Muk. Thanks."

"Poor Ali. I think she's gonna have a bumpy night."

Muk slid his phone closed. He capped the flame on the Tiki torches. He grabbed his sketchpad, pencils and an empty highball glass before heading up to the house. Nick and Nora followed in single file.



Look for the next exciting chapter of Emperor Muk!





Catch Muk on or






For the Love of Muk

Back in the Muk Again

Muk Fast Five



All Muk'd Up





All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.







© Gordy Grundy, All Rights Reserved


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