With “Versus” recently interviewing the producer of “Hot Tub Time Machine” (way to go guys, maybe next time you can get someone notable from a real movie!) the folks at the Slant (meaning me) decided it would be a good idea to do an interview of our own. Unfortunately we don’t have the sort of pull that “Versus” does so we couldn’t get anyone importa-
Wait, who the fuck is that?!
Two ghostly steeds kick down the door to my single, which is weird for a Saturday
“It is I, Edgar Allen Poe!”
I recoil in horror as the Mr. Poe himself strides through the threshold to my room. He smells like shit. Like, its really hard for me to type right now.
“Why do you smell so bad?”
And with that simple question, my interview began with one of the greats, the morose bastard himself, Edgar Allen Poe…
Me: Thanks so much for coming.
EAP: No, problem. I always enjoy helping out a friend.
Me: Yea you owe me more than one favor after Berlin.
EAP: (laughing) Don’t you be bringing up Berlin again!
Me: So besides this interview, what brings you to Nashville?
EAP: Well this adorable couple just moved into a house in Hillsboro with their new baby- so I figured I’d go scare the shit out of them. You know, blood on the walls, eerie voices, and of course taking dumps in their toilets while they are away on vacation… and not flushing.
Me: Moving on- have you been keeping busy?
EAP: Yea, you know, I try to get out of the house, do a little writing here and there.
Me: Still writing Horror?
EAP: Actually the piece I’m working on now is about a Cyborg with a urinary tract infection who keeps finding love in all the wrong places- with hilarious results. I call it, “Crossing Streams”.
Me: That sounds terrible.
EAP: Well, I’ll admit it’s an acquired taste. Obviously fans of my earlier stuff won’t be too enthused, but you can’t please everyone can you?
Me: Can you get rid of your ghostly steeds? The one on the left hasn’t stopped going to the bathroom since it’s got here and the one on the right looks like he wants to rape me. He’s been eyeing me up this whole time and it’s starting to freak me out.
EAP: Of course, how silly of me…
Edgar shouts “Streetcar!” “Desire!” “Away!” and with a wave of his hand his horses dissolve and flow into my closet- right next to my Crest with tartar control.
Me: Thanks. So who do you usually hang out with up in heaven?
EAP: Well, if you can believe it, most of the original Harlem Globetrotters.
Me: Most of them are still alive. Did you just get that from Scooby-Doo?
EAP: No, what are you talking about…
Me:….
Edgar breaks down crying, telling me how he doesn’t have any friends, and how he’s “too much of a genius” for everyone. He’s a total crybaby, but what can you expect from an emo bitch. I could never tell him that though.
Me: You’re kind of an emo bitch Edgar.
EAP: Yea…
Me: Anyway, last question. If you had some advice from beyond the grave for our readers out there, what would it be?
EAP: Heaven is mostly games of Scrabble where everyone gets a triple word score every time. Like teiid is a fucking word… That and a bunch of marzipan… whatever that is.
Me: You didn’t make it in heaven did you?
And with that a jet of fire bursts from my floor and engulfs Edgar, who cackles as he descends into the underworld once again.
Me: What a bitch.
