A/N: You will be interested, or possibly not interested, to know that most of what the Writers say in the interviews, they actually really said when I interviewed them. Isn't that strange how that works?
Interviews With The Writers
Our intrepid reporter braves the world of the REAL people of WLIIA.
It isn't easy to gather several phic characters under one roof, especially when they're these particular ones. Just off the set of Whose Lair Is It Anyway, and flushed with success, this reporter sat down with Hoshi, Adison, Jackie, Le Chat, the Maiden Amorisa, Stalker Erik, Killthefop, Celtic Heart, Sparklyscorpion, and Random Battlecry.
The room wherein they sit is large and square, white walls splashed with tomato sauce from a thousand lunches. It isn't immediately apparent why Random Battlecry chose the school auditorium as the meeting place, and it continues not to be apparent throughout the rest of the interview. Random herself, nearly twenty, a small and energetic young woman with sleepy eyes and a fanged smile, was pounding away on the piano when this reporter arrived. It quickly became obvious that providing them with various forms of caffeine was not a good idea. The Maiden Amorisa was bouncing off the walls, Hoshi was drawing on the floor, Killthefop was braiding a punjab, and the rest of them were alternately playing cards at a table, or hiding underneath it, where Stalker Erik was sharing his world's-end theories for five bucks apiece.
"Its nice we all get along so well," said Random confidentially, as she passed on her way to the drinks table with a contemplative smile. Jackie volunteered to take a bit more time, accompanied by Le Chat.
"Yeah, I wasn't too sure about this thing when it all started," says Jackie. "I mean, its kind of— odd, you know? Not something you'd immediately think about."
"Which is good," called Random from across the room, "otherwise there'd have been tons of phics like mine and nobody would have bothered to read it, much less be in it."
"Yeah, anyway," said Jackie immediately, "I came in on the tail end of it. She already had nearly forty people, I think, who wanted in, or were in. I was glad I was in it— though, of course, I mean, I would have loved a bigger part— but you work with what you're offered, you know."
"Exactly," said Le Chat. "I mean, I wasn't expecting a huge lot of dialogue or anything— I would have appreciated a little more character development, but—" She gave a disgruntled shrug. "There you have it."
"Yeah," said Jackie, nodding.
When asked what their favourite things were about the phic, they both threw back their heads and laughed.
"I don't know. Did Random tell you to ask this?"
"I'll bet she did," said Le Chat. "She did, didn't she?"
"I really liked all the parts with the sing-off between Gerry Phantom and Crawford Phantom," said Jackie. "I know its kind of prosaic. But I really did."
"And I liked the muffin business," said Le Chat thoughtfully. "And, you know, the part where Gerry's giving piggy back rides." She giggled. "I was first in line, you know."
The Maiden Amorisa finally stopped bouncing off the walls and bounced in their direction, trying to braid her hair. She arrived in time to hear this reporter say , "So what didn't you like about the phic?" and answered immediately.
"What didn't I like? I didn't like that I couldn't (bleep)ing make Stalker Erik (bleep)ing (bleep) the (bleep)ing (bleep)! That really (bleep)ed me off!"
"Thank you, Maiden Amorisa," called Random, venturing towards them.
"You're (bleep)ing welcome."
Random gave this reporter a smile. "She's still a little bitter, I believe."
" I can't believe she (bleep)ing killed me, man! The (bleep)er, I was totally (bleep)ed!"
Random winced. "You know I'm just going to go back and bleep all this out, right?"
"(Bleep) you, you (bleep)ing (bleep)er."
"Sausages," said Random, rudely.
"(Bleep)!"
"(Bleeeeeeeep)!" shouted Stalker Erik from underneath the table.
"If I didn't know better," muttered Hoshi to Adison, "I'd say she was going through menopause or something."
"What do you mean, 'know better.'"
"I mean I know if I said it, I'd get killed."
"She's really a very sweet girl," said Le Chat, giving The Maiden Amorisa a hug.
Upon being asked where the rest of the Writers were, Random quickly explained, "Well, Maria— your name is Maria, isn't it?"
"Er, no," said this reporter truthfully. "It's, uh, David, actually."
Random stared at this reporter for a moment. "David? My assistant clearly told me that your name was Maria." Off in the distance there was some cackling laughter, presumably from the assistant. "Well, do you mind being renamed Maria? Its just that my mind is still in rehab from writing the phic, and won't be back for another two weeks, so I can't possibly assimilate any new information before then."
"Er—"
"Thank you Maria, I knew I could count on you. Anyway, as I was saying, there's over fifty writers in the phic, you know. I just didn't think I could handle them all at once, in a concentrated setting like an interview. Plus I'm writing for you as well. I mean, this really is me writing all this, you know."
"Is it?" asked Hoshi with a frown.
"Yes. Its still a phic— I'm the writer— you're a phictionalized version of a real person."
"Oh." Hoshi thought about this and then waved in the general direction of the computer screen. "Hi, real Hoshi! How's things!"
"Yeah, that's right," said Celtic Heart. "Hello, real Celtic Heart!"
"Hello, real Adison," said Adison, "you cool, snarky thing, you."
"Hello, real Random," said Random, before she could stop herself. She clapped a hand to her forehead. "Psycho. I'm a psycho. Look, I told you it'd be too much to handle."
"Really," said this reporter, frowning. "And you say— you're actually writing this."
"Yes."
"Does that mean I don't have to worry about my deadline?"
"What?"
"Well, if I'm not real, then—"
"Just what I wanted," said Random. "An existentialist reporter. Of course you have to worry about your deadline. I said I'd get this chapter up on time."
"But—"
"Don't argue with me, you badly-written fictional character!" She stomped her foot and stared at the ground, trying to get her breathing back under control. "Look, I'm sorry, I don't mean to fly off the handle like that. But— I've been under a lot of stress, see—"
"So have I," said The Maiden Amorisa. "What with, you know, being killed and all."
"Look, I apologized about that over and over! Anyway it wasn't technically me that did it. It was Stalker Erik."
"Not technically maybe, but we all know who was behind it. You're just jealous 'cause I was his fake wife first."
"Jealous? Jealous over the stalker? Jealous? Me, jealous? Jealous? Me? Look, I had a point when I started this paragraph, but its escaped me at present."
"Jealous?" supplied Stalker Erik from underneath the table. "Why would she be jealous over someone like me? I'm not exactly Gerry Phantom, you know."
Random heaved a sigh. "There he goes again. Excuse me while I look for a wall to bang my head against will you?" Instead she wandered off to try, not for the first time, to convince Stalker Erik that he did, in fact, look just this side of Richard Roxburgh. It was slow going.
"She's jealous," confided The Maiden Amorisa.
"Shall we talk about something else?" said Celtic Heart brightly.
"Muffin?" offered Adison, causing Killthefop to make a keep-away-from-me-evil-one gesture with her fingers.
"Honestly? Random went a bit overboard with the muffin thing. I mean, it was okay for a joke once or twice. But now, its like, she lives muffins. She eats sleeps and breathes muffins. It can't be healthy. Frankly I don't think she's quite all there."
"Really?" snorted Le Chat. "Did you just figure this out?"
"She's pretty good about putting in parts that we like though," said sparklyscorpion.
"Yeah, for you maybe. I still don't understand why you got your Erik and nobody else really got theirs," said Jackie, frowning.
"Probably because I kept begging her," said sparklyscorpion. "And I guess not a lot of people wanted the slasher Phantom. Though I don't know why." She shivered pleasantly. "He's just so—"
The conversation under the table was growing louder.
"Look," said Random firmly, "nobody would think you were egotistical if you admitted that you weren't ugly. You have to start somewhere. I mean, I don't go around calling myself cute all the time. In fact I never do. Okay, so that's not technically true, but reality seriously undermines my argument, and so I'm going to ignore it. The point is— look, I've forgotten what the point is, but it was a bloody good one, you can be sure of that."
"Alright," said Stalker Erik quietly.
"Say it."
"I am not ugly."
"Louder."
"I am not ugly."
"More enthusiastic phrasing."
"I am not entirely unattractive."
"Not good enough."
"I am a sexy beast."
"Thank you."
"But still a beast nonetheless."
Random sighed. "Well— like I said, you have to start somewhere." Shaking her head at him, she stood back up. Unfortunately she neglected to move out from under the table first, and so struck her head quite hard on the underside of it. She stood and swayed for a moment.
"Look," she said thickly, pointing a wavering finger at everyone, "I don't want to hear any more of this I'm-no-Gerry-Phantom type stuff from any of you, alright? I mean, whatever happened to the blessed anonymity of the Internet? Nobody has to know what you look like. Lie if you want to. I could say that I'm a rather short Catherine Zeta-Jones mixed with a little Natalie Portman and Pamela Anderson's figure. Who would know the difference? Nobody, if I hadn't been so stupid as to put my picture on my website. Is any of this making sense to you all? I'm seeing double. That can't be good."
She frowned at the room in general, and then turned to Stalker Erik, who had crawled from underneath the table, looking like a beaten and defeated man. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm a few breadsticks short of a basket."
"Breadsticks!" guffawed Killthefop.
"That's not funny!" roared Random. "Only muffins are funny! No other bakery items are allowed to be laughed at!"
"Oh dear," sighed Adison. "Did someone forget to give her her pills again?"
Eventually, Random was hauled off, raving like a lunatic, and for a while things were a little quieter in the auditorium, and the interview advanced.
The next question to be asked was a rather prosaic one, and yet it still didn't fit in.
"If you were an animal, what would you be?" asked this reporter.
Hoshi took offense at this. "Why are these always in questionnaires? How come you can't ask me what kind of fire extinguisher I would be? Huh? Huh?"
"Alright— what kind of fire extinguisher would you be?"
"A small red one."
"Alright— and you?"
"A large red one," said Stalker Erik, defiantly. "And if I was an animal— a panther. Or a llama."
"I'd be a hyperactive chipmunk," said Killthefop.
"Moving on," said this reporter, shifting uncomfortably under the baleful look that Stalker Erik was giving him, "some interesting things about you."
"Who, me?" said Jackie. "Well— I write trashy romance novels."
The Maiden Amorisa sat up. "Really? That's funny, I read trashy romance novels!"
"Really?"
"Really!"
"Oh."
"Huh."
"I," said Le Chat, "go by Le Chat and am trying to seduce my harem master, resulting in a felonious case of bestiality."
There was a small moment of silence.
"But I digress," said Le Chat. "I dance professionally and I've been in three operas."
"I had ponies," said Adison, with a shrug. "What? Ponies are interesting!"
"I'm the uncontended Queen of Typos," put in Hoshi. "I mean, I'd tell you some of my stories, but its really funnier if I just— look, they're embarrassing, okay?"
"I can play almost any stringed instrument. I am not bragging!"
"Nobody said you were, Erik."
"Well, they'd just better not!"
"They didn't."
"Well, they shouldn't!"
"They won't."
"Good!"
"Anything else?"
"I, uh, have a harem."
Another small pause, and then this reporter said, "Well, we have time for one more question, and seeing as Random is out of the room, this seems like a good time to ask— what don't you like about her?"
"She thinks she's the god of comedy," said Le Chat, "able to give life to herself, kill herself, resurrect herself, and snog Gerry Phantom. What a (bleep)in' ego!"
"Carrot cake," said Adison seriously. "Carrot cake. Carrot cake! As if!"
"Cheese," said Hoshi. "The boss— is cheese."
"Stalker Erik likes me better than her," said Killthefop smugly. "I think. I mean, we were having a conversation about being carried off, and he carried me off first. I won't mention that after he carried me off all we did has have dinner, and it wasn't even a good dinner, it was chicken tacos and he burnt the chicken— wait, didn't I just say I wasn't going to mention that? Look, I didn't say that, alright? Never mind. Forget I said anything. In fact, I didn't say anything. Who, me? But, yeah, he likes me better than her. Nyeh, nyeh."
"I didn't realize you spoke Russian," said Jackie, looking confused.
"Random ain't a good harem wife," said The Maiden Amorisa, folding her arms and dragging her eyes away from Stalker Erik. "She's only in it for the money."
"Which is kind of— stupid, if you think about it," said Adison. "Since they're only pretend-married anyway. I mean, what do you get from a pretend-divorce? Half of the pretend-assets?"
"Monopoly money," said Stalker Erik, suddenly in a less fatalistic mood and inventing things with wild abandon and a small smile. "I'll give her all I've got. It isn't much."
"What about me?" said The Maiden Amorisa huffily. Stalker Erik eyed her.
"Hon, if you would divorce me, I'd give you all I could get my hands on."
"Thank you," said The Maiden Amorisa, taking the comment at face value and immensely pleased with it.
"And what do you have to say about Ms. Battlecry, monsieur?" asked this reporter.
Stalker Erik glared at this reporter balefully and flicked dark hair out of his eyes. Stalker Erik's eyes, that is, not this reporter's eyes. That would have been rather an invasion of this reporter's personal space. "Don't patronize me by calling me monsieur."
"Patronize you? I worship you, man! You're an inspiration to guys like me everywhere!"
"Why?" Stalker Erik demanded.
"Dude, you have a harem!" said this reporter, before gaining control of himself and sitting up straight. Stalker Erik stared for a moment longer, then returned to the question.
"I don't know. She's good with them forehead kisses," said Stalker Erik with a shrug. This comment caused chaos to ensue.
"Hey!" squealed The Maiden Amorisa. "I tried to give you forehead kisses, you said they belonged to Random! How are you going to have a chance to compare if you won't make her share your forehead?"
"Exactly what I was going to say," said Le Chat, "except in a slightly lower register."
There followed a discussion on comparing forehead kisses to other-place kisses, whilst Stalker Erik sat and soaked in the attention. Eventually a fistfight was begun, but more as a diversion than anything. Random was brought back, heavily sedated, drooling slightly, and wearing an enormous Monty Python t-shirt. Her attendants seated her in a comfy chair and left her to Stalker Erik's capable hands. He sat by her and sang to her and laughed to himself at the still-wrangling writers.
Random suddenly seemed to wake up out of her medication-induced funk, turned to Stalker Erik, and said, "We should probably work on the sequel now."
A lot of other things happened, but this reporter is now laughing too hard to type.
