Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Mick on Mick: The Exclusive Interview

            I was thinking earlier today, as I do almost every day, that I have not lead a very exciting life. Although my parents misspelled my name often, despite my repeated corrections, for the greater part of a decade, my life has mostly drifted past quietly, with little to recommend it. That is not to say it has been a boring life, and instead I am quite enamored with it. However, I do wish that more people could see the soul that lies just under the surface of this modest young man, so I decided I’d be interviewed. The trouble is, with a life as calm as mine, reporters do not often come knocking at my door.  I mean, I even went through high school without being interviewed for our school paper (The same school paper that featured my story on the front page, above the fold, with a full color photograph, and then credited somebody else for writing it).  I once conducted an interview of someone else, and in fact someones else, in my high school’s first dual interview (A full page interview of my two friends with a photograph, bold print, and thanks to the editor, a misspelling of my name in the byline). I think that allows me to consider myself as somewhat of an award-winning journalist. So during this thinking I mentioned previously, I happened upon the idea that I would smash these two factors together. I will interview an amazing and interesting man, while being interviewed by a reporter seeking to get his big and finally-correctly-recognized break.
            That being said, I highly, intensely, and sensually encourage actual reporters taking this interview verbatim and reprinting it in a publication of actual prestige. Who knows, this might be the interview to save publishing!

            I’m using the restroom, washing my hands, when I first get a glimpse of Mick Dickinson. His blue eyes gaze into mine, warmly, although at the heart of them lays a barely-there seed of apprehension. He’s never let anyone in this deep before, I’ve been told, and is understandably anxious of the start of the interview. I take a deep breath, and he reciprocates the motion at the exact time, both of us seeking to be relaxed on the eve of this momentous conversation. I motion to the door, indicating we get to some more familiar surroundings to conduct the interview in, and, again, he quite literally mirrors the motion. We both smile at each other, an undercurrent of sexual tension rippling through the air. I don’t know if he feels it, but I can’t deny that the moment I set eyes on Mick, I found him dreadfully handsome. We each walk out through the doors, on our way to an unfinished, yet comfortable, basement. I pull out my notepad and finally begin the interview both of us have been waiting for for so long. He leans back into the couch and puts his feet up on a coffee table, looking the epitome of comfort, until he slides his back too far down the couch, and has to push himself back up.

Mick: Thanks for agreeing to do this interview, Mick. I know that you don’t often entertain here, but I have to say I very much appreciate your taste in decoration.
Mick: Thank you, Mick. I’m happy you’re here, and hope we have a good time.
M: I’m sure we will. So. Energetic. Magnetic. Weird. These have all been used to describe you, or so you’ve said on this card in crayon you've just handed to me. Do you have anything you’d like say on the matter?
M: Just that I’m flattered that you’d say such nice things, and agree completely. I’d also have added “Enticing,” had I not run out of that grey crayon. It’s my favorite color, you know.
M: I do now, and that leaves us one less question to get through. What has been on the agenda for Mick this summer? I understand you’re attempting to write a second book?
M: Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of driving, working, and rationalizing reading outside shirtless as being different from laying out. And yes, it’s true, I’m writing a second book, after the widespread lack of reception to my first novella. Some people would tell me to stick to short stories at first before working up to full on novels, but I tell those people that I’m moderate at both, so why keep doing short stories like I’ve already done on my blog? This book is yet untitled, something that has plagued my conscience for some time, and I’m afraid I more often procrastinate by reading the entire internet than working on it, although as of late, a flurry of ideas has erupted from me, which is nice.
M: Like Athena from the head of Zeus, I’m sure. I’ve been reading a large majority of it, but if you’d like to tell us in your own words what it’s about?
M: Well, Mick, it’s a funny thing. I’ve foolishly already put the plot out for public distribution once, here, although mine is a more serious take than I let on. Also, who has let you read so much of it already?
M: I have my ways, I assure you. Let’s get deep for a second: What is your favorite thing about yourself?
M: I don’t need a reason to smile.
M: Coming from you, Mick, what would be insanity in a stranger is as touching as a puppy saving a kitten from a house fire.
M: I can honestly say that’s the nicest and most specific thing anyone has ever said to me.
M: Well, I’m honored.  How about we begin the lightening round of questions?
M: I can only hope that this round will be EN-lightening.
M: What is your greatest weakness?
M: My inescapable quest for perfection. Or the fact that I often mispronounce words that I read more often than I speak aloud.
M: Who is your celebrity crush?
M: If we’re talking pure talent, Jon Hamm. The man is a national treasure of acting and five o’clock shadow. But still, all in all, it has to be Paul Rudd. The man is like a human puppy… I probably should have mentioned some women, looking back, right?
M: Probably, but this is the lightening round, and I’m pressing on. If you could ask God one question, what would it be?
M: Why can we have seedless watermelon, but not gross-white-stuff-less oranges?
M: What is the biggest injustice in the world?
M: The fact that brushing your teeth too often can damage them instead of cleaning them more thoroughly. If the world was fair, you should be able to sit down with toothpaste and a brush, and keep going until either your arms cramped or your teeth were clean.
M: What’s one cause that you can get behind?
M: Body-conscious dressing. Possibly turn signal awareness. Now THAT’S a 5k I would run.
M: If you could have lunch with two people, alive or dead, who would they be?
M: One would definitely be Hitler. Cause come on, it’s the second most famous man in history, after Jesus, and Jesus would probably be all dirty and smelly. No offense, but that’s just how it was in Judea in those days. The second? My mother, because lunch with my mother is always a joy. Although she probably wouldn’t appreciate Hitler’s company too much.
M: Courageous choice. Let me phrase this question a little differently: Cursive.
M: Ugh, I know, right? What’s the point? It’s like, just teach the damn third graders to fill out a check right then and there and be done with it forever.
M: What’s your favorite curse word?
M: **** or maybe ******-********.
M: My ears are bleeding from the pure strength of your words. We’ll need to censor that out, you understand. Where do you see yourself in five years?
M: On a sandy, tropical beach with you, before we retire to our shared suite to make sweet passionate- well, you’ll see then.
M: You’re too much. I can hardly concentrate on my notepad here. Just a couple more, and we can go out for drinks?
M: Definitely. Maybe even a nightcap. Or two. Or three, if I’m feeling up to the occasion.
M: Good, that should be fun. For five hundred dollars and the promise of never being caught would you kill someone?
M: Oh goodness, no. Not for that much money. I’d definitely seek out someone cheaper.
M: No, I mean, you’d receive the five hundred dollars.
M:  Oh. Well then hell yes. You had me at five, let’s put it that way.
M: A dangerously sexy man, I think.
M: And yet you’ll still feel so safe with me. Do you want to get out of here?
M: Yes, right now.
M: ******-******** yes.

            A less than professional ending to the interview, I’ll admit, and even a little deranged and disturbing, but if you ever meet the man in person, you’ll understand. Even dressed in a stained indoor soccer team jersey and even more stained athletic shorts, the man simply exudes seduction. But other than our wondrous summer night together, Mick Dickinson casts a mark on people’s memory. The confidence in which he farts and the good natured humility he adopts whenever his accomplishment(s) are brought to light solidify him in the annals of history, which, when he read the end of this interview aloud, he pronounced “anals.”
            That, ladies and gentlemen, is Mick Dickinson.

So now you know all about me, strange internet stranger on the internet.

Next appearing in artistically topless in Esquire,

Mick Dickinson

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