Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Rat Bastards Interview...Me

Over the past few weeks the Rat Bastards have been giving me crap because they get to interview each other but no one gets to interview me. I told them no one wants to hear from me. They said they deserve answers. Whatever that means. I’m giving in only to shut them up.

Me: I’m here. What do you want to know?

*They all start talking at the same time*

Me: Hey, hey!! What’s the rule?

Doc: If we want to talk, we have to take turns.

Me: Good. Now, one at a time.

Horndog: Me first!

Me: Surprise, surprise.

Horndog: Funny. I have a bone to pick with you. I hear my story’s last. Why am I last? People love me. Your fans are going to be pissed if you make me last.

Me: You aren’t last. You’re second to last.

Horndog: Who’s last?

Me: You know.

Horndog: Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!! He gets a story? How the hell does he get a story?

Me: He made his case and I agreed.

Horndog: But, he’s like a cyborg! It is a romance novel right? And he will have a significant other? Damn Harper.  He's worse than Switch. It takes a special kind of crazy to get involved with him.

Me: Alright, this discussion is over. It’s rude to talk about people when not everyone knows who you’re talking about.

Doc: I’m next. I love you Miss Harper, we all love you, and we’ve all found the women we want to spend the rest of our lives with. When are you going to find a man?

Me: Doc, for the rest of this interview I am going to refer to you as Mother. I have no need or desire for a Mr. Harper, Mother. Just because I’m single does not mean I’m looking.

Mother: Yeah, but…

Me: Yeah, but nothing. We’ve exhausted the topic.

Horndog: She shut you down, Mother.

Mother: You can shut your big mouth Horndog or I’ll tell everyone about that night at Bagram with the….

Horndog: OK, WHO’S NEXT?

Martinez: I’ll go, and I’d just like to take this moment to thank the gods that Horndog did not give me some stupid question to ask.

Horndog: Crap! I forgot! OK, you have to ask her how old she is and how much she weighs.

Martinez: I’m sorry, but all requests must be submitted in writing. Besides, she has complete control over how I’m perceived. I don’t want to end up impotent in my story.

Me: Finally, somebody gets it!

Martinez: Miss Harper, you know all our secrets. You even know our real names. Do you plan on disclosing those names to the public?

Me: Uh, well, I, um, kind of already have.

*A general cry of outrage spews from the Rat Bastards*

Shooter: Quiet down. Quiet down. HEY SHUT UP AND LET ME TALK!!

*The room goes quiet*

Shooter: I gave her permission to reveal our names only when she writes our own individual stories.

Martinez: You should have asked our permission.

Shooter: Martinez, what does M*** (name removed until book 2) call you? That’s right. How’s Harper supposed to tell your story without revealing your name when your woman calls you by your real name?

Horndog: Suddenly I’m not too sad about being second to last.

Tongue: Stupid tactical move Shooter. I get why it has to be done, but you’re putting us all at a distinct disadvantage. I’ll go next. Miss Harper are you going to tell the world about how D***** (name removed until book 2) kicked my ass. I know she’ll love it and she never lets me forget it, but does the whole world have to know.

Me: Do I have a choice? It is what finally brings the two of you together.

Tongue: Oh this is gonna suck. Why do you hate me?

Me: I could take it out, but then I’d have to eliminate the scene following that one. Do you really want me to get rid of THAT scene?

Tongue: No, no I do not. THAT is totally worth getting my ass kicked by a girl.

Hell Kat: I wouldn’t let D***** (name removed until book 2) hear you call her a girl. That always ends bloody. My turn. Miss Harper, you and I are kindred spirits. What do you say to people who think I am you?

Me: I tell them they’re being ridiculous. I’ve never been a mercenary and I haven’t married an oil Barron.

Horndog: Yeah, but the two of you have a lot of similarities. You’re both widows, single mothers, have dealt with a whole crap load of tragedy and you’re both more volatile than a tanker truck full of nitro glycerin.

Me: I know a lot of women who could fit that description. Besides, Hell Kat hates facial hair, I like it. See we’re totally different.

Horndog: Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you’ll believe it. 

Switch: Can we please move this along? I am so freaking sick....

Me: Check the attitude Switch. I won’t put up with it.

Switch: Yes, ma’am. If you wouldn’t mind, could you tell me why you’ve written me to be such a bastard?

Horndog: Because you are a bastard.

Me: Sit down Switch! I know you Switch and I will write you the way you deserve to be written. You’re book four, I’ll write you with honesty.

Switch: Thank you ma’am.
Shooter: Like always, I’m last. Katie, why do you write?

Me: I started writing because I needed an outlet or I’d start skinning people. Since I have a general dislike for ritualistic murder, I chose to write. Writing saved my life, and the lives of everyone around me.

Horndog: I’m sorry, could you go over the part again where you aren’t Hell Kat.

*I flip Horndog off. He blows me a kiss. I love these guys.*

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