It was last Friday, right around the end of the day. I'd just disrobed and settled into my makeshift tarp bathtub. I’d finally managed to get the 13 or 14 squirrels I’d been training to climb into the bathwater with me. I was feeling good, feeling relaxed. I’d just finished of a fresh breath of paper bag turpentine, when suddenly, the nearby pay phone rang. It startled me so, that I knocked down one of my bathtub’s cardboard retaining walls causing my bathwater and benevolent squirrels to spill out across the park. I was distraught, but knew the urgency of answering that telephonic call. I hobbled nakedly over to the payphone and picked up the receiver only to hear the Optimism Vaccine editors assigning me yet another assignment to interview yet another glamorous child-star.
On Saturday morning, an envelope (containing materials with additional information regarding my interview assignment) arrived at the bungalow I’d been staying at since the rightful owners had happened to go on vacation without closing their garage door. The name of the glamorous child-star I’d be interviewing was Joseph Gordon-Levitt. The Optimism Vaccine editors provided me with a Joseph Gordon-Levitt dossier that covered various achievements, speculations, and highlights of his awkward life events. My research revealed that young Mr. Gordon-Levitt had conducted acting in front of movie film cameras to produce movie film video footage for use in television boxes and movie film theater screen viewings. I concluded that because of the young age (in years) at which Joseph started this work, must have been where the “glamorous child star” title had been derived. The J.G-L. Dossier also outlined a strange phase in his life in which he refused to harm women and animals, and would not appear in public without a false mustache and glass astronaut helmet.
I set the dossier aside, and dumped the remaining contents of the envelope out onto the floor, or more specifically, onto a rat that happened to be in the way of the floor. The rat seemed to be perturbed by my actions and retreated back into the bowels of the walls. I shrugged shoulders, and continued examining the additional items from the envelope. The Optimism Vaccine editors had provided me with a Spiss Army Knife (clearly some sort of cheap off-brand), a single flip-flop, $3.26 in assorted pocket money change, and a Hollywood Celebrity Homes Tourist Map to the Stars. Fortunately, I had not gotten very far into getting home on foot since the last time I was in California, so turning back wouldn't be all so devastating.
A few shady favors exchanged for a few shady motor vehicle rides from a few very shady motor vehicle drivers, left me standing on the cul-de-sac where my notable interviewee resided. I brushed the cheese-cracker dust from cat-skin trench coat, and marched up to Mr. Gordon-Levitt’s doorstep. I pounded on his door with both of my fists until the door was timidly cracked open. A small face peered through the opening below the door chain. I wiped the foam from the corners of my mouth with my arm, leaned in and asked, “Is Joseph home?”
The face in the doorway responded, “What? Why? Who are you?”
I replied, “Resident, On-staff, Optimism Vaccine Staff Resident Interviewer, Devlin Q. Satanfingers.” I held up a photocopied ID card and coughed heavily. I then tried to extend my hand through the door to embrace in a firm handshake.
“What the hell!” the face behind the door screamed as my hand thrashed around seeking a hand to shake. The door began to rapidly slam open and closed against my arm, as though the person on the other side was kicking upon it with great oxen force. Startled by the sudden onset of violence, one of my loyal squirrels leapt from pocket and scurried inside the house. More screams arose from inside, however the door continued to chomp maliciously at my outstretched arm limb.
I pulled out my Spiss Army Knife and attempted to saw off my arm and free myself. The blade of the knife bent backwards like putty; unable to even start an incision. I sighed, and began to focus on the slamming pattern of the door. As the door swung open and the chain became taught, I quickly pulled my extremity away from danger. The door slammed shut. I maneuvered my shirt so that my limb could rest inside, close to my body. My squirrel ran around from the back of the house and scurried into my left side coat pocket. “He must have found a way through” I thought to myself.
I cleared my throat and leaned against the closed door screaming, “I just want to interview you, Gordon Joseph Levitts. I just want to interview yous.”
“You better get out of here man! I called the cops you crazy bastard!” Sirens in the distance confirmed his bold statement. I wiped a tear from a tired eye, and hobbled away into the murky night.
Editor’s Note: This interview was transcribed from a submission we received at the Optimism Vaccine office comprised entirely of individual cutout letters from various fashion magazines pasted together on a poster board.