King of Wood, talks with John Lennon about
the Beatles and the Japanese Witch.
Author's note: I should tell you that Barnaby is as
Buddhist reincarnated as a
basset hound, which he likes, and, that he
talks. He doesn't
actually speak aloud. He's a practitioner of mental
these vignettes first started popping into
my head, I thought I was dreaming this stuff.
Then, one day
the light bulb of recognition flickered on! Barnaby was
sitting at my feet. He looked at me with those soulful eyes
and said, "No Shit Sherlock. Ya finally figured it out."
A DOG's FABLE
Barnaby, King of Wood
as told to Tom Sanders
I guess it must a been late 60's early
70's. John and me, we're backstage in the VIP lounge,
drinking beer and sharing a joint. We've been friends dating
back to Liverpool. Long enough I figure I can express myself
So I says, "What's with you and this bird, Yoki? "
"Yoko, damn it, her name is YOKO! YOKO ONO." John says,
irritation obvious in his voice.
"Yoko, Yoki? What's it matter? Pancho?"
"Cisco?" John replied.
"Yooookoooo!" We recited together.
I had john laughing, though not for long.
"You're not serious about this...?"
Even as I asked the question, it dawned on me that he
was. He really was serious. He'd been suckered in by a fake,
a manipulative bitch she was.
I was making John angry. He had a hair
trigger temper, but I was determined to have my say.
"Oh come on, John. This is Barnaby yer talkin to. Yoki Dokey,
excuse me, YOKO DOKO, err YOKO ONO is trying to break up the
greatest rock n' roll band in the world!"
"That was happenin anyway." John snapped.
"The Beatles songs are mostly crap. And Yoko says...we're gonna
"Let me guess. an album. You're going to record an album with a
woman with a voice that sounds like a hairless chewawa.
" Besides John, Yokoooooo is uglyyyyy! . I tell ya...OPEN YO EYES,
MY MAINE, er MAN." I blurted. I always blow it when I try to go
John was starting to come unglued.
"If her brains were on fire, I wouldn't piss in 'er ear." Don't
know why I said that. To this day I don't. It was the proverbial
John erupted like Mount Pinatubo. He kicked me. John Lennon,
more popular than GOD. That JOHN LENNON, kicked me, kicked a
DOG (that should have had dog insurance), and chased me out of the VIP lounge, all because of Yoko-Oko-ono,
That was the last time I saw John. Oh, I tried to revive our
friendship all right. I liked John and being around celebrity.
Later, when john and Yoko took up residence in the Dakota, I went there several times,
hoping to patch things up. But the doorman had standing orders
from Yoko to refuse me entry.
Then along came a sicko bastard name
of Mark David Chapman who shot John dead. And Yoko
turned his memory into a business franchise.
She even tried to have me banned from Strawberry Fields, the
memorial garden in Central Park across the street from the
Dakota . She told police that I was a stalker, that I was
mentally unstable and prone to violence. Violence? I'm a basset
hound for Christ's sake.
I do have my revenge. Every now
and then, I sneak into the park late at night. I go straight to that memorial Yoko put there,
the one made of tiles with the word 'Imagine' . I squat and shit
smack dab right in the center . Maybe you think that's a crude
way to express oneself, but hey, I'm a dog. I get satisfaction,
and, as you humans would say.... It gives me closure .
in the next
the only eyewitness to the murder of Nicole
simpson and Ronald Goldman, Kato, the Akita.