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Interview with a Steven King (Other) by Bachus
-- Steven, your new book "The Brand" Is absolutely brilliant! What the hell were you thinking?! -- Well, ah, Mr.,... What was your name again? -- I am Gono, from Rolling Stono, a Chilean affiliate to Rolling stone magazine, but for the Latin people. -- Oh, I see... Well Gono, ah, it's about the Ultimate name brand. The quintessential trend satiation. Basically, a pair of shoes that cures your fear of being short, and white, egotistically. A shirt that makes you feel confident and loved. A hat that can be worn any way imaginable, the more ludicrous the better with velcro $$ tag. -- Good God Steven, you're a fucking nut job! -- Excuse me? -- Never Mind, how are the wife and kids? Great. Steven, are you a homosexual? -- What? -- Okay, moving on, last night in my hotel room after jerking off to an asian with a penis and tits named LoHi. I channel surfed into "Silver Bullet" Starring Corey Haim in a Wheel Chair/ Werewolf killing tricycle flick that takes place up in the mountains. Co starring, Gary Busey, as a cool drunk Uncle. -- Did you like it? -- Almost... Moving on Steven, what is the Ultimate "Brand" for you? -- Oh, ah probably Smores crunch, and Duracell. -- The copper top battery. -- Yes. -- Sellout Nerd. -- What? -- See that bird? -- What bird? -- The bird I like to throw up when I steal a cab Ha! Ha! Anyway, So, is it true you're fucking Anne Rice? -- Who? -- Anne Rice. -- No. -- Would you? -- Yes -- Me too, okay moving on. What's next after promoting the latest in what can only be called the luckiest stroke of fictional domination ever struck by any author anywhere. -- I'm thinking about buying a space craft. -- To fly? -- No. To fucking plum level, Yes fly you Chilean coke head. -- Thankyou, Where? -- You know, just around. Peoples' backyards, small towns you know, the usual U.F.O haunts. -- I see. -- Well then, avoid my neck of the woods. -- Will do. -- Right-o. -- Okay. Next week, we will be talking to Peter Straub, and he will be telling us why working with Mr. King is a fucking nightmare whether you're dead or alive. Just read the Black house as proof of that, Good grief, until then, fuck off and join a book club.

Up the ladder: masquerade
Down the ladder: SILENT ECHOES

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Arithmetic Mean: 6.7777777
Weighted score: 5.888889
Overall Rank: 1493
Posted: June 2, 2003 3:17 PM PDT; Last modified: July 26, 2003 8:07 PM PDT
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Comments:
[n/a] INTRANSIT @ 152.163.252.72 | 3-Jun-03/7:30 AM | Reply
So tell me, Senator, where does one go when the off, and strange have been so well wrappered by you and the nappied one? WAIT! I know! No ones done the Rockettes!
YES! I'm off to Radio City Music Hall!!!!

Intransit grabs coat, flails the door open, rushes into the street kneecapping himself on the firehydrant, falls back first into the middle of the street only to have a purple smurf ascend from the manhole (thats a funny word) and yell "Whats all the ruckus?! Me and the Mrs. was gettin' it on when you completely stifled my stiffie, man!"

Smurf pokes intransit in the eye with a rolodex.
[n/a] -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. @ 131.111.212.215 > INTRANSIT | 3-Jun-03/9:09 AM | Reply
Don't besmirch the good name of Grandfather by associating it with horus8's unauthorized Grandfather fanfic.
[n/a] INTRANSIT @ 205.188.209.14 > -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. | 3-Jun-03/1:05 PM | Reply
Aye, aye.
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