Interview with a Steven King

-- 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.