DISCLAIMER- Yup. They're my characters. I am some cutting edge screenwriter who likes to spend her time writing Internet fan fiction. NOT!!!!!
* * *
All right, so I'm cruising through the Windy City in my sweet BMW. I'm fighting traffic and talking to Matt on the cell phone. Matt is telling me I'll be a great writer and I'm thinking, 'Hello? Don't you think I already know that? I am Merkin Malcolm, baby.'
Today is the day I start my interviews for the article. I have a list of five people I need to talk to, and I figure this should be pretty easy, you know? Sam Coulson, of course, Aldys Wells (what the hell kinda name is Aldys? Jeez, can't people pick a normal name for their offspring anymore?), Gibby Zarefski, Guy Perkins and Tracie Lincoln.
As I pull into the parking lot, I notice a few girls checking out the Merkman. I smile at them, and try to use my soulful eyes to express how sad it is that, in all their youthfulness and inexperience, they have no chance with a worldly, intelligent, sexy son of a bitch like me. Well, that's just the price you pay for being born after 1982.
A familiar frame brushes past me and I realize it's Sam Coulson. Quickening my pace, I tap him on the shoulder as he attempts to breeze into his classroom.
"Oh, Merkin. Hey. Nice to see you again. Come on in."
"Thanks. So," I begin as I pull out my miniature tape recorder, "tell me about your first impression of Josie." He cocks his head slightly to the side as he thinks about it.
"Well, I remember I didn't quite notice her at first. I was looking toward the back of the room, and then I looked down at the front row. And she sitting right there, dressed all in white and I remember thinking how pretty she was. Not in a false, heavily made-up manner like most girls in the age group she was trying to fit in with, but it was very natural, very innocent. She had these gorgeous eyes that still, to this day, get to me. And after introducing myself, she pretty much knocked my proverbial socks off when she gave me not only the meaning, but the origin of the word "pastoral", which had to do with a lesson we were having on Shakespeare's As You Like It. And then�this is probably what sticks out most in my mind�I asked her "Are you sure you're seventeen?" And she looked around the room nervously and gave off this little giggle. And she said "Yes, I'm seventeen. I'm seventeen", almost as though you she were trying to convince herself. Which, obviously, made sense later on." I nodded and tried to look interested. It was quite a task. Josie "Never Been Kissed" Geller is not my favorite subject.
"Uh huh. And what exactly is it about Josie that makes her so extraordinary?" I surreptitiously examined my fingernails as he talked. Damnit! I need to get them re- manicured.
"Well, for one thing, she has this love for literature that I've only seen before in myself and she�" Seeing as how the recorder was on, I drifted on into Merkinville, land of much more interesting things. If only I'd known how boring this assignment would be when I accepted it.
After conducting another interview, I decided to move along and get back to the office. I decided to be professional, so as I listened to The Spice�I mean, uh, as I was listening to some cutting edge band from England�I took the sections of the Sam Coulson and Gibby Zarefski interviews that pertained most to the article and I typed them onto my computer. I must have been working hard because next thing I knew, I was being awoken by a hand on my shoulder. It was Rhoda.
* * *