Winkler's Troubles - Part 1

Axl awoke restless and damp. He had experienced his fill of Henry Winkler's bullshit antics and it was time to part ways. They had met just two weeks ago in Des Moines, IA. Winkler was promoting his new book, "Afternoons with the Fonz" while Axl Rose had been in town for a vocal cord tightening by world renowned vocal surgeon Ashley Hinson. Winkler and Rose met two weeks earlier at 9AM in the hotel lobby of the Holiday Inn. Axl had been studying himself in the reflective glass and when turning around had bumped into Winkler, spilling the Fonz's rum and coke all over the cream colored "U of I dept. of Drama" sweater. Axl started to apologize, and then recognizing Mr. Winkler, said "Oh shit! The Fonz! I am so sorry man, I didn't even see you there. Hey, is that Bacardi I smell? Isn't it a bit early to be hittin' the bottle my man?" Winkler scanned slowly down and then back up Axl's body. Barely containing his rage, Winkler stared Axl directly in the eyes and said through clenched teeth, "Out of my way you smelly nut sack." Neither of them knew this was the beginning of a two week adventure that they would never forget, but, in the end, wished that they could.

Axl was shocked at Winkler's rudeness and stank-assed breath. "Look, let's start over. I'm Axl Rose of the band Guns and Roses, I've been a fan of yours for years. Your performance in Water Boy was breathtaking." Always a glutton for ass kissing, Winkler broke into a huge smile, put his thumb up and said "Aaaay. Sorry about being short with you Mr. Rose, may I call you Axl?"

"Hell yes."

"Ok then, Axl. I apologize, this book tour has really taken it's toll on my patience. I've heard your new album by the way, and I think it's fantastic. Although I have to admit, with 14 years and an unlimited budget, my cat Mr. Jenkins could have probably produced a decent rock album."

"Oh. Well.. thanks?"

"Anyway, enough about you. Let's go hit the town and find some trashy broads!"

"It's not even 10AM Mr. Winkler. May I call you Henry, or Hank?"

"No. Listen, I don't care what time it is. I realize the bars aren't going to be any fun right now you idiot. Let's get a couple bottles of Jeager and drive around Des Moines. Come on, there has to be some action somewhere in this town. Now lets go, pussy."

Axl was torn. He had been sober for years, but the idea of getting ripped with the Fonz on a road trip was just too tempting.

"Alright Mr. Winkler. I'm in."

"That's what I'm talking about! I'm gonna go rent a Mustang at Hertz. You go get us some booze and Doral Menthol Lights. Meet me back here at o' eight hundred hours."

"Um, but that was two hours ago."

"Dude whatever! I just heard that on M.A.S.H. once. Lets say one hour."

"Ok Mr. Winkler, one hour."

"Enough with the Mr. Winkler bullshit. Call me Frankenpenis, or DJ Winky."

"How about DJ Fankenpenis."

"You're not funny. Just call me HW."

And so it began. What started out as an innocent agreement to get drunk and drive around in a rental car looking for slutty women would turn into what neither Axl Rose nor DJ Frankenpenis could have ever expected. Soon they would find out what murder really means.