Interview With the Vampires

Because I don't publicly reveal enough intimate details about myself on a regular basis, my friends Theric and Tolkien Boy have teamed up to expose the skeletons in Master Fob's closet.



Th.: Once upon a time there was a ... well, there were a lot of things. Which one did you have in mind exactly?

MF: I was thinking of something along the lines of a souffle.

TB: You've just written the great American novel. What happens in the seventh chapter?

MF: Really, TB, you should know me and my writing well enough to answer that question yourself. The same thing happens in the seventh chapter as happened in the first, second, third, fifth, and sixth: The protagonist stares at another guy's back while thinking angsty self-reflective thoughts. Chapter Four is a flashback to his angsty childhood.

Th.: Between you and me, how come you've never invested in the daisy business?

MF: It just seems so, I don't know, invasive. I mean, really, even cows deserve some personal space.

Ooooohhhhhhh, you said daiSy. Hm. More or less the same reason, I'd have to say.

TB: Shakespeare once wrote: "And we all know security is mortal's chiefest enemy." Some variations on this might include "And we all know dexterity is teenagers' temerity" and "And we all know that piety is just holy anxiety." Given all this, what is fobbery, and how do you justify that?

MF: Well, we all know fobbery is a fob's fobbest fobby. That's justification enough, isn't it?

Th.: I'm of the strict opinion that seventy-five is seventy-five is seventy-five. But this one stumps me (maybe you can help): What's seventy-six?

MF: The bicentennial? Your birth year?

TB: Boots are made for walking--but is that all they can do? What are your five favorite non-walking uses for boots?

MF: Ooh, a list!

1. As flower pots.
2. Kicking.
3. Keeping one's feet dry.
4. Hiking.
5. Accompanying fishnet stockings to a nightclub in Spain.

(Please note that #s 1 and 3 are mutually exclusive.)

Th.: Pleated pants, yes or no? Defend your answer.

MF: I'm offended that you would ask such a thing.

TB: You board a bus only to discover that it's travelling in time rather than space. At what stops do you categorically refuse to get off? And when I say "get off" I mean "disembark."

MF: (Thank you for the clarification.) I pretty much refuse to get off (by which I mean disembark) at any point before the present. The past is so yesterday. I'm all about the future. I might make an exception for the sixties. I won't go to San Francisco, though, unless I'm wearing some flowers in my hair.

Th.: If God were to call up this evening and say he was sick and tired of all these ridiculous hiccup cures and he wants to settle on just one ridiculous hiccup cure--one that'll work every time--and he wants you to choose that cure, what will you tell him?

MF: If God were to call up this evening there are a lot of things I would tell him, and probably more things that I would ask him. As for the hiccup cure, I'd suggest to him that he's being too narrrow-minded and that really, there is no one-size-fits-all solution but that he should adopt a more relativistic view of the universe; all ridiculous hiccup cures lead to happiness.

TB: You wake up one morning to discover that your past life has been a dream and you are, in fact, a playboy millionaire movie star. Who are you, and can you explain why you're not wearing any pajamas to the interested press?

MF: I have enough money that no explanations are necessary. Please, now, let me be--all this questioning tires me.



Having been exposed, I am now ready to expose others. Let me know if you want to be interviewed and I'll send five questions your way. Be warned, though, that if you ask for the questions and then don't answer them on your blog, you'll anger the chain-blogging gods and they will bring their electronic wrath down upon you.