The Last Dinner, a flash fiction.

"You don't know shit."

"Yes, I do! Look at it! The Chinese made those things for lonely sailors, I tell you!"

Jim shook his head in disbelief at Steve's idiocy. It was the rare ocassion they broke bread, an annual tradition to celebrate being the last of their friends alive. Jim pounded his weathered hand on the ornate table to shatter the cookie between them, rattling the grease-stained beaker of soy sauce and startling Steve in the process.

"You dumb bastard. Fortune cookies are an American invention. Immigrants made them to draw in customers. It's like that "Ancient chinese secret" shit from the idiot box years ago. It's marketing."

Steve ran his hand over his scalp. "I don't know, pal-mine... If that's true, then why the hell does it look like a damn cooter? Tell me that, mister smart-guy!"

Jim rolled his dark eyes to the ceiling. They'd had this conversation many times over the years, and every time he'd failed to convince Steve. He had hoped to avoid this conversation this time, even going so far as to inform the waitress not to bring the wretched things to the table. Apparently, she hadn't heard a damn word he'd said. Dammit.

"I'm sorry, buddy."

Steve's abrupt change of tone caught Jim's attention at once. He knew that sound. As if on cue, he watched Steve's hand rise, frame-by-frame, to clutch his shoulder, saliva framing the corners of his mouth.

"Oh god, Steve-- Help! Somebody help!" Jim's hands moved of their own accord, patting down the pockets of his tweed jacket for the phone he knew, on an almost instinctual level, he would never find. Giving up the search after a few futile moments, Jim stood, throwing back the comforting chair he had taken up an hour before, and strode to Steve's side, putting his arm around his friend's sliding shoulders, watching the spark of life recede as he had when Joanne passed ten years ago--

"Help! For the love of Christ, help!"

"Check, sir?" The waitress appeared from thin air, smiling upon the scene with an aire of pure serenity. It was disquieting, Jim noted with a hint of disgust.

"I don't want the damn check, I want a got-damn ambulance! My friend's having a heart attack! Can't you see that?"

Her smile grew. "Of course he is."

"What are you--?" Jim's angry grimace slid from his face to be replaced with one of perplexity. "Did you do this?"

Her smile, widening still, gave it away. "What the hell did you do, you damned whore?" The anger in Jim's face returned, stronger than ever, eyes flying wide with a hatred he hadn't shown since Korea. "What the hell did you DO?"

The slip of paper formerly inside the cookie on the table flew, seemingly of its own accord, to rest on Jim's hand over Steve's shoulder. The waitress motioned to it with a slight nod of the head, tinkling laughter joining the sounds of astonished guests just now starting to take note of the situation. Jim flicked his eyes over to take in the damning words: YOU ARE SCREWED.

"Ancient Chinese secret, sir."

Elliot and Mister Jeff, a children's story.

Elliot was a goldfish. He stayed in his bowl all day, like a good goldfish does, never trying to escape. He was happy with his life, except for one thing: He hated his fish food. Every day his owner, Mister Jeff, would feed him those fish flakes, which he thought tasted nasty. Elliot would watch, fascinated, as Jeff would cook amazing meals over the stove, lavish dinners full of meat and vegetables and spices. Elliot wanted that, too.

One day, when Jeff went to feed Elliot, Elliot decided to tell Jeff how much he hated that bad-tasting food.

Poking his head out of the water, he said, "Mister Jeff? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can, Elliot!"

"Why do you feed me these nasty flakes while you cook those wonderful meals in the kitchen? Am I not good enough to get any of the good food?"

Mister Jeff thought about Elliot's question for a minute, then said, "Well, if I tried to give you what I eat, you'd die. Fish can't eat the spices I put in my food."

Elliot felt bad. "Oh. Okay."

"But," Mister Jeff said, "I can give you some before I cook it! How would you like that?"

"Oh, yes! That would make me very happy, Mister Jeff!" Elliot was very pleased. Mister Jeff picked up Elliot's bowl and carried it into the kitchen, placing it on the counter near the stove.

"Now just wait right here, and I'll go get the meat." Elliot nodded. Mister Jeff stepped away to the refrigerator, and pulled out something wrapped in plastic. Elliot could not see Mister Jeff open the package, but watched as he grabbed a big knife and chopped at something hard, making a loud crunch.

Mister Jeff turned around and smiled big at Elliot, and placed something in the tank. It looked familiar, Elliot thought, and he swam up to the thing.

He tried a nibble.

It was just as amazing as he thought it would be! Elliot nibbled, again and again, and Mister Jeff watched, until Elliot was so full his tummy felt like it would burst.

"Did you like that, Elliot?" Mister Jeff asked when he saw Elliot had finished eating.

"Oh, yes! I liked it very, very much!" Elliot had never been so happy in his life.

"Good! I'll leave the rest of that there for when you get hungry later."

"Thank you, Mister Jeff!" Elliot said with a big smile.

"You're very welcome! Now, I'm going to bed. Good night, Elliot."

"Good night, Mister Jeff! Sweet dreams!"

Later that night, Elliot woke up, tummy grumbling. He decided to have more of the thing Mister Jeff left in his bowl for him. He ate until he was full again, and noticed that all that was now left of the thing Mister Jeff gave him was a few big white sticks. Elliot didn't know what they were, and decided to fall back asleep.

The next morning, when Elliot woke up, he noticed something strange: the water in his bowl was now red! Elliot loved the new color, as it was very pretty. He waited for Mister Jeff to wake up and give him some more food, but nothing happened. Eventually, some men that Elliot had never seen before came to the house and took away the sticks from his bowl, and one of them took Elliot home with him.

Mister Jeff never came back. Elliot missed him for the rest of his life.

WE'RE BACK, BABY!

WE'RE BACK, guys/gals/(insert choice here)!!!

Well, it's the first new post of the revitalized blog. What should it be? An announcement regarding the release of a new book? A fresh short story? A poem, perhaps?

Nope!

I just wanted to say "Hi!". And I wanted to say THANK YOU to my followers and readers. You lot make me do what I do, every day. THANK YOU, so, so, sooooo much. You lot are fucking awesome!

So, to celebrate the blog being back (Hooray for alliteration!), I'm doing a new Video Q&A! Between my Facebook page and here, the first five questions posed to me (no matter what they are) will get answered in by me in a video. Got a question you want to ask? Status of a project? Timeline of next release? Personal question? GO AHEAD AND ASK AWAY!

Okay, back to the world of writing! Cheers!
-C. Priest Brumley
-9 July 2013

My Protector, A Short Story.

I'm scared. I don't wanna be scared. There's a tee-storm outside, like Daddy used to say. But it's making everything too dark. I look to my left and see Bert and Ernie on the wall, and they always make me laugh, but not tonight.

I'm scared.

CRA-KOW! BOOM!

The lightning outside of my window makes everything bright inside, and for a moment I can see everything in my room, clear as day. Everything was clean and picked up, as Mom likes it to--

Where's Baldur? Where is he? He was on the shelf, right across from the bed! I can't sleep without him there! Daddy always said he was s'posed to watch me while I sleep! Where--!

CRA-KOW! BOOM! THUD!

The lightning makes everything bright again, and I can see the room. Baldur's nowhere in sight. Maybe he fell down? I sit up in my bed, and try to see the floor past my feet, but I can't. It's too dark. Mommy'll be mad if I turn on the lights, but I have to find Baldur or he can't watch for me. Oh well.

"Don't move, Harold."

Who was that? It sounded like Daddy's voice, but smaller. I did as I was told and stayed in the bed, looking around for the source of the voice. I let a whimper escape, as scared as I was. Then, before I knew what was going on, something growled near my head and caused me to jump.

"Back! Get back, vile creature of the dark!"

Something moved to my left, but I didn't wanna turn my head, I just wanna go to sleep, but I can't because-- BALDUR!

Baldur stood at the foot of the bed, with a-- axe? And shield?

"Baldur, why do you have--"

He turned to look at me like a people would, and talked. Baldur talked!

"Harold, young sir, you are in mortal danger. Be still, and I will rid your dwelling of this putrescent beast once and for all!"

Baldur sounded like my Daddy, and his voice made me miss him bad. I did as I was told and stayed still. Baldur walked to me and looked around, trying to find the pew-tressing thing, I think. Then, out of nowhere, he yelled!

"A-ha! Found you, beast!" He swung the axe in the air at Bert and Ernie, like he was play fighting, and yelled, "Did you think your deeds would go unpunished? Did you think you could harm this child without my intervention? I THINK NOT!"

I was gonna ask Baldur why he was playing like that, but before I could open my mouth, I heard a scream, like one of those dinosaurs from that movie Mommy didn't like me watching, and I was scared, so I didn't move and I whimpered again and "Baldur, I'm scared!"

CRA-KOW! BOOM!

The lightning sounded far away, but still made my room bright for a second. Baldur stood on my bed and looked tired, like he breathed hard. He turned to me and I saw his belly was cut open and his fluff was falling out. I started to cry because he was hurt, but I didn't want him to be, he can't die like Daddy did, I need him...

"Baldur?"

"You are safe, Harold. The beast is done. Retreat to your dream-land, free of fear and worry."

His axe and shield disappeared, and he sat there on my bed, tummy cut open. I wanted to help him, but how? How do you help-- Mommy! Mommy can sew!

"Don't worry, Baldur. Mommy'll help fix you up good!"

It sounded like Baldur laughed, and he said, "It would be nice to see her again. Thank you, Harold."

"What do you mean by that?"

Baldur laughed again. "Nothing at all."

I laughed too, and I wasn't so scared anymore. I picked Baldur up and got out of bed, and went straight to Mommy's room down the hall.

The Slicer Chronicles Character Interview: David Chase Hadley

David Chase Hadley
Five Year Psychiatric Evaluation.
Interviewer: INT Charles Cameron.


* * * * * *


(INT note: This interview is being conducted bedside at Ochsner Baptist Hospital, where Agent Hadley is recuperating from injuries received in a recent case.)


INT: If I may, I'm going to preface by saying that I've heard a lot about you over the past few days, Agent Hadley.


-Really? Anything good? (INT: Conflicting.) -Uh-huh. Who've you interviewed so far? Aside from Kyra, of course. (INT: Captain Diaz.) -Well, this'll be interesting, then. Go ahead, hit me.


INT: Please state your name for the record, alongside any nicknames you may have had or currently have.


-Name is David Chase Hadley. Previous identity was Anjelica Marie Sutton. No known alias that I'm aware of, but I'm fairly sure Hector's got a few choice names for me.


INT: Please state your eye and hair color.


-Fuschia eyes, Black hair. (INT: If you don't mind my asking, how did you--) -Get the fuschia eyes? (INT: Yeah.) -It's cool. I get asked that fairly often. Parents were rich-ish, and mom wanted a beautiful baby girl, so they did that genetic baby manipulation crap everyone threw an uproar over some years back. In the end, I was born with pink-purple eyes. (laughs)


INT: Do you have any distinguishing facial features?


-Just the eyes, and a little scarring from a recent scuffle I got in to. Nothing major.


INT: Do you have any birthmarks or scars?


-Yeah, I have two scars on my chest from a double masectomy, and again, scarring from a fight, mostly on my breastbone.


INT: Who are your friends and family? Who do you surround herself with? Who are the people you're closest to? Who do you wish you were closest to?


-Parents are Deanne and Stephen Sutton, both alive and able to leave me the fuck alone. Sibling was Richard Sutton, but he died two years ago from an overdose. Don't really have any friends outside of Kyra and Hector. I also have a dog, little guy named Cloud. (INT: Why "Cloud", Agent Hadley?) -My room mate at NCLA was a cat named "Chiba", after the district in Japan. Biggest geek you'd ever meet. Huge fan of pre-Net video games. Played these games called "Final Fantasy" all the damn time. I normally didn't pay attention, but he played number seven for a long time, and I got caught up in it. Cloud was the main character in the game. I loved that huge fuckin' sword he carried. (pause) Chiba's dead now. Pancreatic cancer took him, two months before graduation. After I got my apartment, I got myself a pomeranian to keep me company, and I named him Cloud in memory of Chiba. (pause) I miss him. He was a good friend.


INT: Where were you born? Where have you lived since then? Where do you call home?


-Born in Baton Rouge. Moved here after secondary school to be my own person. Lived here ever since that day. I like it too much.


INT: Where do you go when you're angry?


-The hole. (INT: I beg your pardon?) -The hole. That's where he tells me to go. (INT: Where who--) -Jesus, man. It's a joke! Really, I just close myself off for a while, try to swallow it down, and emerge in a few hours or so.


INT: What is your biggest fear? Who have you told this to? Who would you never tell this to? Why?


-Well, it used to be that people would find out about who I used to be. But now... (pause) Now I'd say it's not being able to do the best I know I can do. (INT: Do you mean in work, or--) -I mean in anything. Work, sex, art, anything.


INT: Do you have a secret?


-(laughs) Not any more!


INT: What makes you laugh?


-Seeing other people laugh. And getting a rise out of Hector's always fun. I don't really mean to piss him off, but he just doesn't seem to enjoy life. Everything's all serious, all the time with him. If he'd just let himself chill out for a few minutes, he'd be a lot happier, I think.


INT: Have you ever been in love? Had a broken heart?


-I had a boyfriend once. I already knew what I was, but my mom insisted I "act like a damn girl and date someone", so I did. We went on a few dates. I ended up ditching him at a resteraunt for a dyke from my art cl-- (INT: Agent Hadley, please refrain--) -HER words, not mine. She was proud of who she was. Didn't last long, anyway. Jumped another girl a week later. Didn't date again until Kyra came along.


INT: What is in your refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your garbage can?


-Fridge is empty. I think I have a pizza from about two weeks ago sittin' in there, from before this Tuttle bullshit. Bedroom's kinda messy, but once I get out of here I need to do laundry anyway. Garbage chute's clean, though.


INT: What type of shoes or coverings do you wear on a day-to-day basis?


-When I'm not in yellow booties? (holds up his foot) I generally prefer combat boots. I've gotten used to 'em by now.


INT: When you think of your childhood kitchen, what smell do you associate with it? Why is that smell so resonant for you?


-Wine. My mom hardly ever cooked. But I swear, she'd have her friends over eight days a week and they'd kill more wine than Nappa Valley could produce in a year. (laughs)


INT: Let's say you're doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for you to throw out? What is difficult for you to part with? Why?


-What's there to get rid of? I have three pieces of furniture, a dog, and a Dumbass. (thoughtful pause) Well, maybe Dumbass...


INT: It’s noon on a Saturday. What are you normally doing? Please be specific.


-Workin'. We have a rotation Hector keeps. He's always on call, and Kyra and I flip-flop back and forth with each other. And on the odd occasion we're all off or not plugged in, we'll have some drinks and bullshit.


INT: What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?


-The day I left my parents. I told them that I'd finally figured out who I was. I was openly lesbian before that for a few years, of course. They didn't like it, but they weren't going to throw me out. They just tried to "push me" in to being straight. (scoffs) Whatever. Didn't work. But by the time graduation from secondary school came about, I had already figured it out. (pause) (INT: Figured out what, Agent Hadley?) -Hmm? Oh, that I was born wrong. I was a boy. In my head, I was a boy. And I told them that. The night after graduation I sat them down, poured them each a glass of merlot, and laid everything out; that I'd always been uncomfortable in my skin, that I was always different from my girlfriends but I never knew why. Fuck, I even think I told them about crying to sleep some nights when I couldn't pee standing up. Like I said, I laid EVERYTHING out. And when I was done, my dad threw his wine glass right at my head, hit me between the eyes. He started screaming at me at the top of his lungs, telling me that "You were supposed to be my little girl," and "How dare you do this to your mother," and just on and on. And I laid there. I laid there on the rug in the living room and took it. And I cried. Oh dear sweet God did I cry.  I mean, how can you do that to your own child? (cries) I never did anything to hurt him! Never! Why? (INT: Would you like a moment, or--) -(wipes his eyes) No, no I'm fine. It's just a harsh memory, is all. (sniffles) Any way, I just laid there on the floor. I didn't move for hours. And after they went to sleep, I packed my shit and left, and took the quickrail to New Orleans. I only had a few dresses that my mom made me wear for clothes, but I traded those for jeans, t-shirts, and a sports bra when I got out here. I applied for reassignment the next day at the Social Ident office, after I registered at a shelter. And the next day, I applied to NCLA. Got accepted on the first try from my testing scores. I went through reassignment throughout my time there, and got my new name and ident about a week before Chiba died. (pause) Yup. (INT: That's quite a tale, Agent Hadley. Do you mind if we continue on?) -No, it's cool. By all means.


INT: You're getting ready for a night out. Where are you going? What do you wear? Who will you be with?


-I don't go out. People find out you're NetPD, you get shunned anywhere you go.


INT: What is your favorite occupation?


-Oh, professional hedonist, hands down.


INT: What is your most treasured possession?


-Well, he's not really a possession, but Cloud. He's been the best company I've ever had, 'till Kyra came along. He's a needy little fuck, though. He's got more energy in him than I'll ever know what to do with.


INT: What do you consider your greatest achievement?


-Proving my parents wrong. I know they try to check on me. I'm happy, and I'm loving my life, and they can kiss the fleshiest part of my skinny ass. They think I'm an abomination? Fuck them. I'm proving them wrong every damn day. THAT'S my achievement.


INT: What is your idea of perfect happiness?


-Loving who you are and filling your life with those who accept that.


INT: What is your current state of mind?


-Tired of this hospital bed. I want to go home and be with Kyra and Cloud. Get laid, grab a take-n-bake, and just veg.


INT: What or who is the greatest love of your life?


-Kyra. She gets me, she's gorgeous, and for some insane fucking reason, she loves me. I'm thinking hallucinagens, but really, who's counting?


INT: What is your favorite journey?


-I don't travel, man. This hospital stay is the longest I've been from home ever, and I've only been in here two weeks or so.


INT: What is your most marked characteristic?


-Everybody's going to expect me to say my sense of humor. And, to be frank, I agree whole-heartedly.


INT: When and where were you the happiest?


-I think it's the day Kyra asked me out, man. I was waiting for it. We kissed a few times before, but she talked the doctors here from giving me pain meds until she could ask. I remember what I told her, too. She leaned over me, and asked me, looking in my eyes, if I'd be her boyfriend. And all I could say to her... Was "OW-OH-MY-GOD-THAT-HURTS-I-HAVE-A-CRACKED-STERNUM-FOR-CHRIST-SAKE-NUUUUURSE!". She probably remembers it different, though.


INT: What is it that you most dislike?


-Mayonaisse. I HATE mayonaisse. And The Joker.


INT: What is your greatest fear?


-Fear? What's fear?


INT: What is your greatest extravagance?


-Batarangs. (INT: Excuse me, sir?) -You heard me. Batarangs. And grapple line. (INT: I did hear you, Agent Hadley, but I don't get the joke.) -Then let me spell it out for you. This interview, with you and me, right here, is a waste of my time and yours. If I have to pretend I'm the goddamn Batman to get this over quicker for both of us, then that's what I plan to do. (INT: But we have to do a psychiatric--) -Do you? Well then, prepare for a dazzling interpretation of Damien Wayne, my friend. (INT: I really didn't want to have to do this, Agent Hadley. Refusal to cooperate will result in your immediate dismissal and forfeiture of all back pay, hazard pay, and benefits.) -Really? Over a fucking Q-and-A? (INT: Yes.) -(scoff) Just get the damn thing done and over with already.


INT: Which living person do you most despise?


-Udo Ugundokov. He's a villain. Over-the-top, Adolf Hitler two-point-oh villain. (pause) Someone needs to put a bullet in his brainpan, stat. Next.


INT: What is your greatest regret?


-Never standing up for myself all the times that my identity and self-worth were shit on at home. Next.


INT: Which talent would you most like to have?


-The ability to convincingly whistle while I work. Next.


INT: Where would you like to live?


-Nowhere. New Orleans is home, not the red stick. No other place like it. Next.


INT: What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?


-Having your sense of self destroyed, piece by piece, by your "loved ones" while being told it's "good for you". That's low. Next.


INT: What is the quality you most like in a man?


-He has to have a sense of humor. No humor means no joy. No joy means no zeal for life. And a man who doesn't want to live is no friend of mine. Next.


INT: What is the quality you most like in a woman?


-(pauses) She has to be honest and caring. Looks don't really matter, though they do help. Same with intelligence. She has to be smart.


INT: What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?


-I internalize everything. I'll fight back physically, if I can. But I just take the words and insults and keep 'em in.


INT: What is the trait you most deplore in others?


-Noticing nothing of the world around them. Despite the crap we've done to it, the world's still a gorgeous place. And nobody takes the time to just stand back and see it. I can't stand that.


INT: What do you most value in your friends?


-Being open-minded. (pause) Relatively speaking, of course.


INT: Who is your favorite hero of fiction?


-(very long pause) (INT: Agent Hadley, do you have an answer?) -Y'know, I'm sitting here, racking my brain, trying to think of a good answer. I think of all the heros I've enjoyed, from Holden Caulfield to Harry Potter, from Scout Finch to Guy Montag. And I can't pick one. There are so many fictional characters I admire. Before I came out, I read voraciously to pass the time. I had a library in my room, I swear. Couldn't bring any of it with me when I left. God knows what they did with 'em. But in any case, I really can't pick just one. If you gave me a limit of twenty, I might be able to whittle it down for you in a few hours. Sound like a plan? (INT: Actually, Agent Hadley, I really don't have the time for that. I think your answer's good as is.) -Are you sure? (INT: Yeah.) -Okay. Onwards.


INT: Who are your heroes in real life?


-Probably someone like Harvey Milk.


INT: Which living person do you most admire?


-Hector. I know I joke with him a lot, but the fact of the matter is I wouldn't be who the hell I am today if he hadn't picked Kyra and I for his new crew when he became chief down here. He has taught me amazing stuff that I never even dreamed was possible. I owe him my livelihood, I really do.


INT: What do you consider the most overrated virtue?


-Respect for your elders. They don't respect me, so why should I return the fucking favor?


INT: On what occasions do you lie?


-Only when my mouth is open, sir.


INT: Which words or phrases do you most overuse?


-Hyperdiscombobulatory. (INT: Again, Agent Hadley, I have to rem--) -Yeah, yeah. I don't overuse any word or phrase too often, man.


INT: If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?


-I'd love to be able to take things more seriously. Don't get me wrong, I love who I am. I love the man that I've become. But sometimes, I really wish I weren't such a smartass.


INT: What are your favorite names?


-I like Melancholy. I think it's a gorgeous girl's name, despite the meaning behind it. For boys, I like David.


INT: How would you like to die?


-Hmm. That's a toughie. (pause) I think, if I were to choose my own way, I would like to know it was coming. I'd like to be able to have my affairs in order, train my ducks to at least appear to be in a row, and I'd love to be surrounded by my loved ones, whoever they are at the time. That would be nice.


INT: If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?


-I'd make it a cycle and come back as me, except in a better house to parents who actually love and support their children.


INT: Final question. What is your motto?


-"Be who you are, not what society wants you to be". I can't remember who said that to save my life. But I think it fits, really. So, that's it? We're done? (INT: Yes, Agent Hadley. We are finally done.) -Good. Got everything you need? (INT: Yep.) -Good. Please send in Kyra on your way out.


(Psych Eval Interview Concluded.)

The Slicer Chronicles Character Interview: Kyra Amber Marston

Kyra Amber Marston
Five Year Psychiatric Evaluation.
Interviewer: INT Charles Cameron.

* * * * * *

INT: Please state your name for the record, alongside any nicknames you may have had or currently have.

-Marston, Kyra Amber, sir. I generally go by Kyra or my surname.

INT: Please state your eye and hair color.

-Grey eyes, dark brown hair. Did you want a physical description for the record as well, sir? (INT: No, just eye and hair is fine, ma'am.) -Okay.

INT: Do you have any distinguishing facial features?

-No, sir.

INT: Do you have any birthmarks or scars?

-No, sir.

INT: Who are your friends and family? Who do you surround herself with? Who are the people you're closest to? Who do you wish you were closest to?

-My father, Kirk, still lives in Austin, and I communicate regularly. Mother's dead. Boyfriend is NetCop Agent David Hadley.

INT: Where were you born? Where have you lived since then? Where do you call home?

-Born and raised in Austin, Texas, sir. Moved to New Orleans to attend NetCop Academy of Louisiana seven years ago. Assigned to New Orleans region under supervision of Region Chief Hector Diaz upon graduation. Been here since.

INT: Where do you go when you're angry?

-I'm not an angry person, sir. I don't have a failsafe.

INT: What is your biggest fear? Who have you told this to? Who would you never tell this to? Why?

-Dying, sir. (INT: Do you mean dying alone, or--) -No, I mean death. I had this one thing lately, a brush with this rapist-- (INT: The Jerry Tuttle incident?) -Yes, sir. I really, honestly thought I was gonna die. One of the scariest things I've ever been through.

INT: Do you have a secret?

-Not that I can think of, sir.

INT: What makes you laugh?

-My boyfriend, David. Funniest man I know. (INT: I've heard that from your chief, Hector.) -Oh, you talked to Hector already? (INT: Yes, ma'am. He also says Agent Hadley can push the jokes way too far.) -He just likes to push Hector's buttons. Man needs to loosen up sometimes, in my opinion.

INT: Have you ever been in love? Had a broken heart?

-I had a boyfriend in secondary school. We dated a few years, but broke up right after graduation. (INT: May I ask why, or--) -No, it's fine. He got enrolled to be a lawyer at some damn place up north, and I wanted to go to NCLA for enforcement. Just parted ways, is all.

INT: What is in your refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your garbage can?

-That's pretty personal sir, mind if we skip that one? (INT: Unfortunately, we can't, Agent Marston.) -Okay. Refrigerator is clean. I have a few things in there, but nothing expired. Bedroom's clean. My garbage needs to be taken out, but that's just 'cause I haven't done my daily cleaning yet today, sir.

INT: What type of shoes or coverings do you wear on a day-to-day basis?

-At work I wear heels. I try to stay professional. At home I wear sandals or flats, sir.

INT: When you think of your childhood kitchen, what smell do you associate with it? Why is that smell so resonant for you?

-Smell? Fresh herbs. My momma used to grow pots of herbs on the windowsill. Dill, basil, mint, thyme, and rosemary, in that order, left to right. Dad used to grow bellpeppers out back, too, but they don't really smell 'till you cut 'em open. But those herbs smell to high heaven.

INT: Let's say you're doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for you to throw out? What is difficult for you to part with? Why?

-I could do to get rid of some stuff. Sports equipment, some junk up in the attic. I am not getting rid of my furniture, though. Lot of it's been in the family for years.

INT: It’s noon on a Saturday. What are you normally doing? Please be specific.

-I'm either plugged in when it's my turn on rotation or maybe havin' a few drinks with Hector and David, sir. I don't go out much anymore.

INT: What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?

-The day my momma died. I was fourteen years old. We lived in a good neighborhood out there, but this gang came in, started trying to loot the houses and just go crazy. My dad bought a rifle to protect us in case those assholes come by our way, but it didn't help. One of 'em came by, knocked on the door like a gentleman. Momma thought it was safe, and started going up there, when the man opened fire. I didn't get hit, thank God, but my dad took one in the leg and momma took one in the chest and one in the head. Didn't kill her right away, either. She started doing silly stuff, like singin' nursery rhymes and sayin' poems. Dad called for an ambulance, but she bled out before they got there. (smiles) Last words she said to me was "I love you, Ki-Ki." She came to long enough to say she loved me. That's somethin' you'll never forget. Ever.

INT: You're getting ready for a night out. Where are you going? What do you wear? Who will you be with?

-I don't really go out, sir. Don't like the crowds.

INT: What is your favorite occupation?

-(laughs) I like mine. Get to rid the world of the bad guys and help folks out what need help.

INT: What is your most treasured possession?

-My collection of vacation stuff. Every year, my dad would take us out somewhere. Redwood forest, Grand Canyon, London, that sort of thing. And every year I would take a picture and get a souvenir of some sort. I still have 'em all, keep 'em in my living room.

INT: What do you consider your greatest achievement?

-I caught the bastard. (INT: Excuse me?) -The man that attacked us. After momma's funeral, I plugged in and read everything I could about Slicers, watched memories, and the like. Took about a year of jumping around, but I finally found the man. He had the memory to prove it. Name was Clifford Payne. White male, thirty-one years old. Tracked him down, shot him in the leg, and ripped out his VI button so he couldn't call for backup. Then I called the police, and they arrested him on sight. NetCop confirmed his guilt, and I got scholarships thrown at me by about ten state academies. Texas wasn't one of 'em, but Louisiana was and their instructors looked like they knew their stuff, so I went there.

INT: What is your idea of perfect happiness?

-I'd say having a good family to love and support you. Every time I talk to my dad, he reminds me how much he loves me. That's happiness, right there.

INT: What is your current state of mind?

-I'm fine. A little hungry, but that's normal.

INT: What or who is the greatest love of your life?

-Well, I don't know about "love of my life" yet, but I'm really happy with David, sir.

INT: What is your favorite journey?

-The trip back and forth to Austin to see my dad. It's long, and I only do it about once a year, but it is some gorgeous.

INT: What is your most marked characteristic?

-I'd say my dedication, sir. When I'm on duty, ain't a damn soul better. You can bank on it.

INT: When and where were you the happiest, Agent Marston?

-The day David said "yes" and we became official. I wanted to ask him out for a while, but I was too nervous. The day he saved me from Tuttle, though? I opened my eyes, and he was the first thing I saw. (pause) He's such a good man. Anyway, he went in to the hospital afterward, and I asked him before they put in the drugs so I'd know the answer was real. And he looked me dead in the eyes and said, "I've been waiting for you to ask that!" I tell you, I could've flown that day.

INT: What is it that you most dislike?

-People who think they're better than you, sir.

INT: What is your greatest fear?

-Now wait, didn't you already ask me that? (INT: I did, sorry. Been meaning to take that out. Moving on.)

INT: What is your greatest extravagance?

-Like, spendin'-wise? (INT: Yes, ma'am.) -Oh, okay. I spend a lot on business suits, but really, I save more than I spend.

INT: Which living person do you most despise?

-I don't really hate anyone. But there's this one guy Hector was tellin' me about the other day, name of Udon somethin'-or-other-- (INT: Are you referring to the war lord Udo Ugundokov?) -That's the one. Killin' people like crazy over there. Heard he's even getting a cult of personality startin' over here. I'd watch out for him.

INT: What is your greatest regret?

-Not gettin' a chance to say goodbye to my momma. I was in so much shock I couldn't say "I love you" back to her.

INT: Which talent would you most like to have?

-Oh, man, I'd love to be able to sing. I honestly couldn't carry a tune in a bucket the size of Texas.

INT: Where would you like to live?

-I'd like to move back to Austin, sooner or later, sir. Be with my dad.

INT: What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

-Losin' a loved one, definitely.

INT: What is the quality you most like in a man?

-The ability to make me laugh.

INT: What is the quality you most like in a woman?

-Well, she can't be prettier than me, that's for sure. (laughs) Really, just be a good person. Help those that need helpin', that sort of thing.

INT: What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

-I get too overzealous at work sometimes, sir. Tend to jump to conclusions, especially if I'm really involved in a case.

INT: What is the trait you most deplore in others?

-No respect for the law. I can't stand that.

INT: What do you most value in your friends?

-Honesty and loyalty, sir. If you can't be honest or you talk bad about me, you best get to steppin'.

INT: Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

-(pause) Man by the name of Atticus Finch. Ever heard of him? (INT: Wasn't he the protagonist of "To Kill A Mockingbird?") -(nods) Yup. Good man. Everyone should be more like him.

INT: Who are your heroes in real life?

-I think I'd say Josh Eastwood. (INT: The actor?) -Yes, sir, great-grandson of Clint. Man stood for what he believed in. You know that man spent sixteen years as a police officer between movie shoots? (INT: I did not, actually.) -(nods) Yes, indeed. Again, he was a good man.

INT: Which living person do you most admire?

-My dad. He's been a role-model for me my entire life, sir.

INT: What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

-Kindness, sir. Sometimes, people get it, but they sure as hell don't deserve it in my eyes.

INT: On what occasions do you lie?

-Not at all, which is entirely too much, sir. (laughs)

INT: Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

-I don't overuse too many words or phrases, sir.

INT: If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

-I wouldn't. I am who I am, for better or for worse.

INT: What are your favorite names?

-I like a few different ones. I like Kirk, obviously. I like Brendon. I think Ariel would be a beautiful name for a girl.

INT: How would you like to die?

-I don't want to. I don't-- No. I'm not-- N-no. No. Not thinking about that. I can't. No. Move on. (INT: Unfortunately, Agent Marston, I need an answer--) -Then you can kiss my ass, sir. Ain't gettin' one. (INT: With all due respect, refusal to cooperate will result in the loss--) -Fine. I don't want to see it happening. I just want it to happen and be over with, happy?

INT: If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?

-I'm gonna reach across this table and kick your ass down Canal Street and back, you don't knock it off with these death questions, sir! (INT: But Agent Marston, we--) -You what? Gonna fire me? Take sanctions against me? Let me tell you somethin', son. My record is spotless. I have received more commendations for my work in the past five years than you ever will in your career. I. Am. Afraid. Of. Death. Get it through that thick freakin' skull of yours. I know for a fact that an interview question of this caliber can be omitted when the content of the question calls in to play or brings forth mortal fear in the interviewed Agent. That is occuring here. Now knock it the fuck off and MOVE ON!

INT: Okay. Final question. What is your motto?

-(deep breath) (pause) "Live today like it's your last, so every day can be your fullest." There, I'm done. Now leave me alone.

(Psych Eval Interview Concluded.)