OK, I don't really like to tell this story because it was so long ago and it's pretty hard to believe, but for the chance at that Jackson I'll do it just this once.....

    The story starts back in the early 80s. Game shows were all the rage at the time (due to porno being scarce and of grainy quality still) I was an up-and-coming host. The show was a pilot for what the network had slyly termed "HEY FUCK YOU!" and I was the host Chip Remington. Now, in retrospect I am not sure the show would have ever gotten green lighted, but at the time it seemed like a good idea, but let me explain; The show was to feature a panel of celebrities of various levels of fame, the host (yours truly) and an audience that also interacted. The host would read off various facts that would be seen as embarrasing to one of the celebrities while the audience shouted their choice of who it pertained to. The contestant would have to decide whether the adusience was correct and "call out" the celebrity. The scenario would repeat with a series of facts being read and inevitably lead to celebrities getting pissed off and if they had enough they could yell the catchphrase "Hey Fuck You!" and exit stage left while being pelted by the audience with buckets of items they had been supplied with; gummy worms, bolts, tomatoes, old batteries, etc (you get the picture) Anyway, just trying to give you an idea of the setting even though that's not really the point. 

    I was backstage reading through the classifieds and wishing I had finished plumbing school. I could hear the audience warming up beyond the curtain, chants of "HEY FUCK YOU!" filled the air as various people from catering and production fumbled around the area barking orders. This was pretty normal as I had done a couple of pilots for shows before, they were always a busy clusterfuck, and I had learned to tune it out for the most part. So I was checking my nails for coke residue (in vain I might add) when I heard a high pitched voice pipe up "What the fuck! I'm not doing this shit!" followed by an inaudible response and more loud cursing. I turned around to see what the commotion was and realized it was one of todays celebrity contestants; Ronnie James Dio. He seemed to be leafing through the "fact questions" and not liking the idea of it. "I once fucked a cat on the tour bus?" "I only eat meat loaf before a show because it makes me sing more manly?" "My shoes have eight inch lifts because I'm a dwarf?" "Who the fuck wrote these?"

    Just then my production manager Howard went scrambling past me and gave me a "god help me" look so I decided to intervene. I walked over to the short, balding, David the Gnome look-alike and introduced myself. "Hey Ronnie, I'm the host Chip, hows it going?" The wee mans response took me off guard: "Who the fuck wrote these? I'm not doing this bullshit. Where's my manager? Where the fuck is Earl?" At that, Dio started looking around frantically only to find himself awash in a sea of other peoples belt buckles. I had heard that Ronnie got anxiety in crowds of people that were taller than five feet but until seeing this in person I thought it was an urban myth. I reached my arm down to the little mans shoulder and tried to calm him. "Hey Ronnie, calm down, I'm sure Earl is around here somewhere. Lets find you a quiet place to chill out and I'll go look for him." As my arm touched the leprechan's shoulder something changed in him. His eyes lit up, a feral sound broiled up from within his chest, and he snapped his head to side and latched onto my left hand with his goblin teeth. In complete shock, I jerked my hand back from the pint-sized prince of darkness. As I recoiled I heard another voice yelling and beyond the black stare of the enraged Dio I saw what I could only assume to be Earl running forward with his hands oustretched holding what appeared to be a tiny leprechan costume. He was yelling for Ronnie to calm down and it didn't seem to be working. 

    The little person known as RJD had started circling me with a mixture of hate and fear in his eyes. Earl then looked at me and started clammoring; "You can't touch Ronnie! No one touches Ronnie except me, he doesn't like that." In an attempt to sooth the mini metalhead, Earl produced a black silk sheet (where or why he was carrying this I do not know) and draped it over Dio's head like you would a parakeet when you need them to sleep. "This usually works when he gets like this" Earl assured me. And to my suprise it actually helped some. Ronnie's crazed gait seemed to slow up some. This gave me a chance to look at the bite on my hand. Two of my fingers were bleeding and there was a large cut on the tip of my thumb. "Oh wow, your gonna wanna get that looked at, Ronnie has a medical history" Earl advised. "Look I'm the host, I was just tying to keep the peace" I added. Earl didn't seem to consider my comment, he had moved to stroking the top of Dio's head through the sheet and cooing to him. Still holding the leprechan costume, Earl started to explain to Dio that it was time to get into wardrobe. Ronnie pulled the sheet off and actually seemed calmer. That was until he saw the leprechan costume. 

    "I'm not wearing that! This show is bullshit! Did you see those questions? Who told em that shit about me Earl. Who? I'm fucking leaving!" With that, Ronnie started to turn to walk off. Now as the host it's my job to save the show at all costs and decided to try another approach; "Mr Dio, if you leave you will be in violation of your contract and will forfeit any monies due for your appearance as well as take responsibility for the studios losses today." This seemed to set the little monster off more than last time. "AAAAAHHH" DIO screamed in that high-pitched, caught my nuts on barbwire, voice that only he can do and he wheeled on me. Seeing this change in behaviour, Earl simply stated "Now your fucked." and started to back away as Ronnie closed in on me. 

    Now I have been fucked around by my share of celebrities in my time. I once had Prince call me a faggot (I thought it was ironic), I got knocked out by Holifield over some potato salad and would later go on to be molested by Micheal Jackson, but this was a little much. Not that I don't respect Dio for his singing but cmon, he's no fucking Ozzy and I will be damned if I back down from someone who gets turned away from the teacups ride due to height issues. So I decided to stand my ground. Dio was now coming at me at full speed, I braced myself for the impact as he launched himself at my face like a spider monkey. I was suprised at the amount of air he got. Jumping from what I estimate a height of four feet he had managed to latch himself on to my face. With his legs around my neck and his hands wrapped in my hair, Dio proceeded to bite at my face and tear his teeth across the bridge of my nose. I could smell the clovers on his dank breath and he shrieked and gnashed at me. I don't know if he had done this type of thing before but it was actually working. Dio was effectivly smothering me while he ripped my face to shreds. I tried to pry the munchkin off of me but he had an iron grip that would not relent. In a desperate move I decided to run face first into the wall. With a crash we both went down to the floor but it worked. He seemed to be dazed and his lock on my head had let up. Trying to shake off the cobwebs, I stood up and looked around thinking someone would help but there were only a few people in the backstage now and they only seemed to stare with curiosity. I started to turn to look for Earl and I felt it; Dio had latched on to my ankle and was doing his best attempt to chew my foot off. At this point I was getting pissed and decided I was probably fired anyway so I started kicking my foot against the wall as hard as I could to get the evil elf off of me. 

    Once Dio let up on my ankle I decided to get even. While he was rolling around making gutteral noises I started to stomp on his legs. I was honestly hoping to paralyze him. Somehow in my enraged mind if I could make him even shorter by paralyzing him we would be even. With each stomp Dio replied with a dog like howl which gave me satisfaction. Hell, he fucked my face and hand up pretty badly so I didn't feel bad. After an adequate stomping, the aroma of fieces filled the room so I slowed down and Dio curled up into a ball and rolled away from me. It still reminds me of that movie Critters when I picture him rolling away. I thought it was over with and started to breath some when I saw the little man on his knees. He was digging in his belt for something. With a smile he produced a ceremonial dagger and started toward me again. I looked around and saw the step ladder they had set up for Ronnie for when he was to stand at the podium. I grabbed it and thought of the poetic justice as I slammed it over his head. I guess my adrenaline was really going as I had hit Dio so hard he collapsed completely and wasn't moving. I stood there staring at the three foot long heap in the floor and wondered how I could convince a jury that this pale, albino version of webster was a threat to my life. 

    Just as I was weighing a life in San Quentin versus a life in Tiajuana my production manager walked up. "What the fuck are you doing Chip?" he asked with disbelief. I tried to explain: "The little fucker attacked me! what was I supposed to do?" His reply was straight and to the point:"I don't know, maybe let him go and use an alternate like we went over in the meeting. Were you even paying attention in the meeting?" I had to admit I wasn't paying attention. The new OZZY solo album had just came out and it was all the rage. I had had my walkman on listening with glee during the production meeting and didn't catch any of it. "your gonna have to get your shit together Chip, this is show business" Howard scolded. He then turned and said "This is the alternate for DIO his name is Randy something or other, take it easy on him, he's new to the limelight." 

    I couldn't believe it. This was Randy Rhoads and he was gonna be on my show! I had so many questions to ask but there was no time for that. Maybe we could talk later though. I briskly walked up to the hottest new guitarist in metal and introduced myself. "Hello Mr Rhoads, my name is Chip, it's an honor to meet you." Randy shook my hand and quielty said the pleasure was his as he eyed the chaos of the backstage area. I briefly explained I was a big fan and hoped we could talk later. He seemed very appreciative of the kind words and followed me toward the curtain for the set. I heard the shows music que up and the crowd yell "HEY FUCK YOU" and I knew it was gonna be a great show. And that's the story of how I met Randy Rhoads.