Interview With An Imposter

                                                

Writer Lady sits in the Big Writing Chair utterly and thoroughly blocked. She keeps perusing the Internet looking for something that will lead her to something else that will get those creative juices flowing. Waiting for inspiration to strike. Dobby stays away not sure if when inspiration strikes it is anything like lightning. Writer Lady sits, reads, looks at the ceiling, the walls, the floor, thinks about vacuuming-- decides not to, eats an orange and is still blocked.

“Mom!” Dobby calls sitting in the doorway which is a safe distance from Writer Lady, just in case.

“Yes kitty?”

“Are you still blocked?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady sighs deeply and nods.

“You know if you had eaten those funky brown sticky things you would probably be okay by now.” Dobby reminds her.

“Those are prunes and that is a different kind of blockage entirely.”

“A different kind of blockage?” Dobby asks.

“Entirely.”

“It's your mind that's going isn't it?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady turns to Dobby and frowns. “No, in this case blocked means I am creatively blocked.”

“Oh...” Dobby goes to his catnip box, rolls it over with his nose and dumps it. The box is empty.

“What are you doing?” Writer Lady asks.

“I was going to share.”

“Dobby, catnip doesn't do for me what it does for you.”

“Have you ever had any?” Dobby asks.

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I don't. That doesn't matter the box is empty. I just have to relax a little bit and then I'll think of something.”

Dobby leaves High Command and returns with the container of prunes.

“Dobby what are you doing?”

“Why don't we smash some of these on your head?”

Writer Lady glares.

“If you've never done it you don't know that it won't work Mom.” Dobby says.

Writer Lady continues sitting at her computer with prunes smashed into her hair.

“Is it helping?”

“No. My head is wet, sticky and I feel ridiculous.”

“You smell better?” Dobby offers. “Just keep brainstorming. You've got this.”

“I hope so kitty. I hope so.”

Stopping in the doorway of High Command, Dobby turns back to Writer Lady, “You know what you need Mom?”

“No what?”

“To interview somebody. You know just for this week. Since you're blocked.” Dobby says.

“Interviews take time. Research. Background information. Questions have to be formulated. Questions the person being interviewed hasn't been asked hundreds of times before. Most importantly you have to find a willing victim...um...participant.”

“What if your subject had never been interviewed before?”

“I don't know kitty.”

“You see him every day. So you have background information.” Dobby offers.

Writer Lady tenses a little, not sure where this is going.

“What if you interviewed Incognito?”

“Incognito?”

Dobby walks over to the three foot action figure and stands up, putting his front leg around Incognito's shoulder.

“I don't think that will work kitty.” Writer Lady puts her hand to her mouth and whispers. “He's an action figure. He doesn't really talk.”

“He doesn't talk but you just shielded your mouth from him and whispered so he couldn't hear you?”

“Yes?”

“That doesn't make sense Mom. Even for you.”

“Besides if he doesn't talk how did Tinkletoes know his name?”

“Tinkletoes made up the name. He just said Incognito told him his name so I would accept it and stop freaking out about him not having one.”

“Just a month ago he was on stage with me playing a trumpet.” Dobby points out.

“TP. Faerie magic. Duh.”

“Mom. Just try it.” Dobby says dropping to all four paws and making his way into High Command's closet; leaving Writer Lady alone to study Incognito.

Inside the darkened closet, Tinkletoes and TP are already hiding. They have a view of Writer Lady and High Command from a small monitor screen. TP is wearing a headset. The faerie is covering the mouthpiece with his hand.

“I'm telling you guys, Mom is too smart. She is not going to fall for this.” Dobby says.

“She is tense and sleepy already, she is totally going to fall for this.” Tinkletoes counters. TP nods in agreement. “You're not trying to back out of our bet now are you? You do have the support of the Faerie council Dobby. They even took away TP's powers for this prank. The only way to win this bet is if your mom falls for it.”

The three watch as Writer Lady sits and studies Incognito.

“She not only has to interview Incognito. She has to believe it enough to put it in the blog and post it to the Internet. The odds are stacked against TP and me. We haven't backed out.” Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady turns around in her chair to face Incognito.

“Okay, she's going to make a move. Here we go guys.”
 

“Hi. Incognito.” Writer Lady says. “Could I...would you be willing...may I interview you?” she asks.

“Yes.” The clone warrior says.

“Would you like to sit down?” Writer Lady asks.

“No.” Incognito says.

“Okay. Well I'm just going to pick you up and move you over to where I can see you better.” Writer Lady says picking up Incognito and placing him near the desk. “There. That's better.”

“I know your name is Incognito and you came to live in High Command on Christmas Day but where are you from...originally?”

“I am from France.” Incognito answers in an even robotic voice.

Writer Lady shifts her eyes from the monitor back to her subject. That phrase is familiar. “I'm not sure that's right.”

“I am an alien. I am from France.” Incognito repeats.

Writer Lady checks her research. “Clone troopers were created on a planet called 'Kamino.'”

“I am from France.”

Meanwhile, in the closet. “What are you doing? Why are you talking like that?” Tinkletoes asks TP.

“TP has been studying humans much. This is more natural for her. She understands.”

“She will understand very soon that this is a load of crap. Stop it!” Tinkletoes says.

Thinking for a moment, Writer Lady asks, “Where is this France? Where is your homeland?”

“Canada. My France is in Canada.” Incognito answers.

“Where is France? What part of Canada?”

“The part that speaks French.” Incognito responds robotically.

“What is the name of the city you are from?”

“Troy!” Incognito exclaims.

“There is no Troy in Canada.” Writer Lady says. Something is off about this interview.

“I am from Troy! I look just like Brad Pitt.” Incognito says. “In Troy. Brad Pitt in Troy.”

“That sounds like an old pick up line.”

“Want to kiss me?” Incognito asks.

“No I don't. There is something off about you Incognito. Besides, Brad Pitt's not my type.”

“He isn't. You don't have a type. But in Troy Brad Pitt was yummy. You said so.”

“No I didn't.” Writer Lady argues.

“Yes you did.”

“No I didn't.”

“On Sunday, March 2^nd at 2 p.m. you said, “Watching Troy? Brad Pitt isn't my type but in that movie...he sure looks yummy.”

“Troy? What is really going on here?” Writer Lady asks.

“Nothing.”

“Really.”

“Then where are you from?”

“I am from France. Incognito, the happy clone, I come from France.”

“Incognito, the happy clone?” Writer Lady repeats studying her surroundings. Looking at the ceiling fan above her head she sees it, a small camera nestled near the blades. Next she sees a fine black wire running from the ceiling fan, along the ceiling and into the closet.

“I am from France. Want to see my underpants?”

Writer Lady rises from her chair and heads for the closet.

As she crosses the room she hears a desperate plea coming from the clone warrior, “Want to see my underpants? They are blue! One of your favorite colors.”

Writer Lady opens the door of the closet to find Tinkletoes and TP huddled together watching a small screen. Both pale at the expression on her face.

“I won! Thanks for playing guys. It looks like you two are going to be kind of busy, we can settle up later.” Dobby jumps down from his perch on a shelf and leaves the room basking in the glow of not being the one who is in trouble this time.

It's All In The Title

Writer Lady is sitting in High Command waiting for lightning to strike. Inspiration to light a fire under her butt. A joke. Any joke. Nothing is happening. Getting up she makes her way into the living room.

“Dobby? Kitty?” She calls softly looking around the room.

Curled up in the blue chair, Dobby opens one eye. Barely. Writer Lady squats down on the floor next to the chair and peers at him through the spindles. “I'm sleepy.” Dobby says stretching his front legs out.

“Me too.”

“I love you Mom.” Dobby says using his front paws to touch the end of Writer Lady's nose. “It's blog time. Go write.”

“I don't know what to say. I need help.” Writer Lady gets up and heads over to the couch. “I'm going to shut my eyes for a minute kitty. A little nap is going to make all the difference.” She lays down.

“Tinkletoes. TP.” Dobby calls. “Tinkletoes! TP!” Dobby walks around the living room in circles, his call is frenzied and loud.

The mercenary and the faerie both reach the ginger tabby at the same time.

“What's wrong?”

“It's Mom. She won't wake up.” Dobby says.

“Again?” Tinkletoes asks. “It's not the chocolate thing again is it?”

Dobby shakes his head. “It's worse. This is blog night. She hasn't written a thing.”

“When is it supposed to be up?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Two hours ago.”

The cell phone lights up and vibrates on the end table by the couch.

“Do you want me to get that?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Those are her followers. Demanding to know what's going on.” Dobby says.

“How many followers does she have?”

“Four.” Dobby says.

“Four? You're scared of four people?” Tinkletoes asks.

“They are fiercely loyal.” Dobby says.

“Follower says kitty needs to go to the pound. Where litter is cheap, dusty and will stink just as much as Dobby's poop.” TP giggles reading the latest text.

Dobby's eyes grow wide. “I don't know what to do.”

“We'll just have to give the people what they want.” Tinkletoes says.

“Tinkletoes wants to write.” TP giggles.

“No TP. We need your magic. What will fix this?” Tinkletoes says.

TP flutters over to Tinkletoes' ear and starts whispering.

“Really? She can do that without being awake?” Tinkletoes asks.

TP nods.

“Don't worry Dobby. We've got this.” Tinkletoes crosses the living room and carries Writer Lady into High Command, sitting her gently in the Big Writing Chair. He places her hands on the keyboard.

“Now what?”

“TP will enchant the keyboard to pick her thoughts up while she is sleeping and string the random components into a post. All we have to do is wait. When we get enough for the post. I will put it up on the Internet.”

Several minutes later Tinkletoes goes to the computer and looks at the word count on the word processing program. “690 words. That should be about right.” After picking up Writer Lady and putting her back on the couch, Tinkletoes settles in to put up the new post for the blog. “It's cut and pasted. Now all I need is a title. Got it. See Dobby it's all done. The day is officially saved.” Tinkletoes announces. “That was hard work. Tell your Mom to make me some muffins in the morning. I'll be by. Early.”

Writer Lady wakes from her nap happy and refreshed. She checks her phone right away confident that she had only lost an hour. “2 A.M. It's two in the morning. Oh no!” She screams running to the computer. Checking it quickly she breathes a sigh of relief. “It's okay. I must have woken up and written the blog earlier. You know you're tired when you get up in the middle of the night, write and post a blog and then forget about it.” Clicking on the link Writer Lady smiles and takes a peek at what she came up with. Her smile shrinks the longer she reads, “Oh no. No, oh no. This is not good. This is not good at all.” She turns away from the chair and breathes deeply. In and out. In and out. With each passing moment the breathing becomes more frantic. “Dobby kitty! Come here please!”

“Mom?” Dobby asks. Writer Lady is pale and breathing erratically.

“Who wrote this?” She asks.

“You did.”

She breathes faster shaking her head.

“It's kind of a long story.” Dobby says.

Writer Lady continues to hyperventilate.

“I'll tell you everything but promise me one thing.”

Writer Lady nods.

“Put your head between your knees Mom, head between your knees.”

She bends over putting her head between her knees and listens.

“Remember at 8 o'clock tonight when you laid down for quick nap?” Dobby proceeds to fill Writer Lady in on what she has missed.

“So, they hooked my sleeping body up to a computer like I was another computer and recorded any random thoughts that might make a blog.” Writer Lady says. She is out of the Hyperventilating stage and has entered the Anger stage.

“Did you read it?” She asks.

“I can't read Mom.” Dobby says.

“Did anyone read it?” She asks.

“Tinkletoes glanced at it. He came up with the title.”

“And this is where it gets interesting. The title. Do you know what the title is?”

Dobby shakes his head.

“Lonely Widow Ladies Get Sexy And Wild. What the...is that supposed to mean? What if a child reads this?”

Writer Lady looks down at Dobby. “What if a child has already read this?”

“Mom.”

“The post itself is so simple and disjointed it makes a grade school reader look like Shakespeare.”

“Mom?”

“I can't believe this is happening. This is really happening. I try to be a good person and live a good life. It's gone. Just gone.”

“Mom!  Let's check the stats. Look at the comments and see if anyone was offended.” Dobby says.

A light slowly dawns. “Of course. I may be worrying for nothing.” Writer Lady goes to the blogs stats to check things out. “I have 3000 hits tonight. You know what this means kitty.”

“Yes.”

“There are some really sick people out there.”

“Don't be so quick to judge Mom you have lots of comments. Read one.”

Clicking the comments button she reads, “Hey there. I didn't know you could...write. This was so great, it started out really exciting. Especially with the title. Then it got slower and slower. The story made no sense even for me. I starting falling asleep. Dude. I told everyone in my insomniac support group about this. We are all ready to snooze. I have a whole new respect for you. You are one Cool Cat Mom.

Catchin' Those Zzzzs.

I love you man.

Ray

One Big Night--Revised

                            

“Mom? Mo—om!” Dobby calls walking through the hall and into the living room.

Finding Writer Lady stretched out on the couch, Dobby jumps up on to her chest and yowls. “MO-OM!”

“Yes kitty.” Writer Lady answers, “Move kitty, you're standing on my boobs.” She says squirming back and forth until the ginger tabby jumps up on to the back of the couch.

“You have to get up now Mom. It's time. Time for my party.” Dobby announces, stretching down to rub his head against hers.

Writer Lady checks her phone. “You're right. Let me get changed. It's getting late.” Writer Lady goes into the bedroom and comes back out in a t-shirt and jeans. She does a full turn. “So. How do you like it?” Silence. “Dobby?”

Dobby glares.

“You don't like it?”

“That shirt announces when you last number 2d” Dobby points out.

“Not classy enough huh?” Writer Lady asks. “Are you sure? I painted my nails and everything.”

“Dress. Put on a dress.”

Writer Lady pales considerably.

“You painted your toe nails without shaving your legs again didn't you Mom.”

“No I shaved my legs. Both of them.” Writer Lady announces proudly. “See?” She lifts a leg of her jeans to reveal a bare ankle, currently stubble free.

“Mom. Fo-cus. Put on a dress.”

“Okey dokey.” Writer Lady takes off running from the living room back into the bedroom.

Dobby takes out his recorder and starts talking. “Mom is extremely cooperative and malleable right after a nap.”

She returns in her ultra short British Flag dress.

“Not that one. Classy Mom. Classy.”

“But I like this one. It's fun and flippy.” Writer Lady argues.

“Mom please.”

“O-kay.” Writer Lady says. She returns to the bedroom head hanging. She returns wearing her other dress. “Okay?” she asks.

Dobby nods. “Stockings and shoes please.”

“But it's just us.” Writer Lady says.

“It won't be. Stockings and shoes.”

“No one will see my pretty toes.”

“Shoes.” Dobby reiterates.

Writer Lady starts to negotiate.

“Shoes.” Dobby repeats.

Writer Lady's mouth begins to open.

“Shoes, Mom. Shoes.”

Writer Lady heads back into the bedroom muttering.

“I can hear you.”

The door slams.

Dobby takes this time to explore the living room more closely. Things have been dusted and vacuumed. Looking out the big picture window, he finds nothing. The same yard no red carpet flowing up the walkway, no extra cars parked in the driveway, where are those bodyguards?

“Mom?” Dobby calls.

“Yes kitty.” She calls from the bedroom, I'll be right out.

“Are you going to decorate or is the caterer doing that too?”

“I decorated already can't you see it? I moved a bigger table into the living room it has this lovely cloth on it, I put out tapered red candles that are going to be lit , a pretty golden tray, streamers.”

“That's it?” Dobby asks.

“Besides the food? Pretty much. That hippie ran off with your catnip disco ball.”

“I know you aren't as good at classy as I am Mom. But didn't you research this? Weren't you listening? Because this isn't what I pictured. At all.”

“I know it isn't exactly what you wanted but when I got into the dollar store I just started getting ideas and things kind of got away from me there.” Writer Lady confesses.

“The dollar store. You decorated for the most important night of my life with stuff from the dollar store?”

Dobby runs his paw down his face. “She's a disaster. A walking, talking disaster.”

Ray walks into the kitchen. Shopping bags in hand. “Dobby.”

“How did you get in the house?” Dobby asks.

“Tinkletoes showed me how to pick the lock.” Ray says.

Dobby glares at Ray.

“He showed me where Writer Lady hides the extra key.” Ray says, looking at the floor.

“Do you have anything good in there? Milk, cheese, catnip?” Dobby asks jumping up on to the counter and sticking his head into the bag.

“Sorry Dude. None of that.”

Confirming there is no milk or catnip Dobby removes his head from the bag.

“I have some hard salami, crackers, pickles, potato chips and my personal favorite –chocolate. There might be dip in here some where too. I can't remember. I bring my own snacks to parties. I hit them pretty hard so I like to help out. I kind of have an eating problem.”

Dobby stares waiting for Ray to stop talking.

“I can't stop. I just eat and eat. It's all so good. You know?”

Ray finally stops talking.

“When is everyone getting here?” Dobby asks.

“What?” Ray asks. “Hey man. How are you Dobby? Long time no see.”

Dobby leaves the kitchen and heads back into the living room finding a spot on the couch. “I just don't understand. This was my big night and nothing is happening. Why?”

“Dude. There is an ice storm coming. No sane person is going out.”

“Why are you here?” Dobby asks.

Ray cocks his head to one side and thinks. “Free food man. I love to eat.”

“You brought it with you.” Dobby points out.

“I did. Didn't I?” Ray says. “I rock.”

The living room grows quiet except for the sound of a random home improvement show playing the background.

“I've seen this one before Dobby. The coolest part of it is, they get the really cool TV they wanted. The couple doesn't know they are getting the TV.”

“That happens in all of them. The homeowner gets something they really wanted at the last possible second. They want us to be surprised.”

“Dude...you ruined it for me.” Ray gets up out of the chair and heads back into the kitchen. He meets Tinkletoes, TP, Carp and several others in the kitchen.

“Ray! Glad you could make it man.” Tinkletoes says.

“It was fun.” Ray says sadly.

“Was fun?”

“Was. That cat friend of yours just ruined something very special for me.”

“What?” Tinkletoes asks.

Ray cocks his head to the side and thinks for a minute. “Tink! Dude! Long time no see man.”

“I know. Come on into the living room. Let's get this party started.” Tinkletoes says, carrying in his PS4 gaming system.

“Okay.” Ray says, following Tinkletoes.

“Come on Dobby. Get your furry butt up off the couch. Let's play some games.” Tinkletoes says.

“I don't wanna.” Dobby sits up, stretches, turns his body around so he is facing the other direction and goes back to sleep.

Tinkletoes continues disconnecting Dobby's gaming system and replaces it with the PS4.

“Come on Dobby. I want you to meet Carp. He has carpal tunnel and gets really mad when it makes him screw up a move. It's really funny.”

“Assasin's Creed. We are playing Assasin's Creed. I must learn.” Carp says.

“Dude. We're playing Need For Speed. I have a need man.” Ray argues.

“Don't tell me about your needs. Your needs are creepy.” Carp says.

“Sorry guys. We aren't playing either one first. Tonight is Dobby's night. I have a special program just for him.” Tinkletoes announces.

Dobby looks up. “You made me a devilishly handsome adventurer in a game didn't you? Dobby Cat Apostos Invades the Temple of Gloom. I'll go get my whip.” Dobby says jumping down from the couch.

“It's not that kind of game. I think you'll like it though. It's kind of a sci-fi thing. Dobby you design your own planet, cities, characters and adventures. You do it all. Right down to the food for sale in the marketplace. A buddy of mine wrote it. We set it up with a city you might like until you learn how it works and everything. Go ahead.”

Dobby makes his way over to the controller and taps a button with the tip of his tail. A vibrant lush green city fills the screen. “Is this what I think it is?” Dobby asks.

“Yeah. Catnip. The whole planet is made of catnip. Take that route in to the city.” Tinkletoes instructs. “See Dobby. The buildings are catnip. The marketplace is full of catnip. Even the streets are catnip. See that?” Tinkletoes asks pointing to the far left side of the screen.

“Another feline.”

“A female.” Tinkletoes says.

“A hot one.” Dobby says.

“Over there.” Tinkletoes points to the right side of the screen.

“Another female made out of...catnip.”

“You'd be getting your nip and eating it too. Dude.” Ray says.

Tinkletoes glares at Ray.