Thanks for allowing me these few minutes with you to ask my questions. I know that your time is extremely valuable.
Well, you know how it is. So many irons in the fire, right?
Sure, right: the book, the fashion line, your chain of restaurants…
Kiosks, actually. Owning a restaurant chain is so 1996. Hard Rock Cafe? Screw that. That’s just a bunch of celebrities with too much money waving their dicks around. No, the future, my friend, mark my words, is kiosks.
In the mall, in the airport, outside of funeral homes and rehab centers. The overhead is low, some cans of coffee, some hot dog buns, if you want to get a little fancy maybe some scones or um… what are those things called? Crullers. Big with our Canadian customers. Canadians love the crullers. You set up your kiosk, you hire some really hot college girls and give them revealing but tasteful uniforms–kind of like Hooters, but all black and with high heels and bowler hats–and you’re all set. Nobody can resist hot college girls with crullers.
You’re trying to be the new Starbucks then?
Fuck Starbucks. Starbucks has nothing on me, and you know why? Because of the overhead. I’m not renting out a whole store, remember? It’s a kiosk. I’m maybe paying a couple of hundred dollars a month for the location, and my electric bills? Next to nothing. The ones not inside a mall? Solar powered. That’s what I’m talking about. And when it’s cloudy or at night, I’ve got treadmills set up, and the girls just run on them. The economy sucks right now, they’ve got jobs, and if they want to keep them? Then they’d better start running, am I right?
Let’s talk about the book…
I mean, kids today? College kids? If they can get hired at any sort of job at all, they’d better bend over backwards to keep it. I’ve got unemployed doctors, college professors, acupuncturists, they all want a job selling crullers. But for my money, college kids are best suited for the type of job I’m offering here. Especially the college girls. Actually, exclusively the college girls, because they look the best in the uniforms. I’m not going to be selling many crullers with some fifty year old laid-off pharmacist spilling out of the outfit, am I?
No, I wouldn’t think so. Now, about the book.
Time Magazine called your novel, Oh Magic Donkey, Slavering Monkey, and I quote: “The most brilliant piece of modern fiction since The Notebook. Paresis is a true American voice, a talent to be compared to such authors as Rosie O’Donnell , Ally Sheedy and L. Ron Hubbard. I wept, I laughed, I became violently ill and required hospitalization for a period of three weeks. If there is a hope for literature to survive in the 21st century, Nigel Paresis may well be it.”
I resent Magic Donkey being compared to The Notebook. If anything, it should be compared to Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead. Not for any similarities in content or narrative, but because they’re both really, really thick books. The Fountainhead is what? Like 800 pages? Magic Donkey came in at 853 in the final draft. That, my friend, is a long book.
Was it so long because of the depth of the storyline, and the way that you followed the lives of the main characters of Bobo and Monkey Dan through four different decades, seven different wars, two amputations, four ruptured spleens, three marriages, fourteen births and one anal rape scene?
No, I was being paid by the word, and I had that house in Maine I needed to pay off, so I just kept on writing until I reached that magic mortgage number, and that was that. Actually, that’s not totally true. I added the prologue once I decided that I needed a boathouse. Sometimes, a book just writes itself.
And then of course there was the film adaptation.
Twelve Oscars, right. That was a good night.
Best Picture, Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay…
What can I say? Sometimes, all that talent that’s out there just comes together in a perfect, magical sort of way, and you end up with something that transcends the power of the individual parts. Except for the script, I mean, which I wrote, so you knew it was going to be fucking aces.
What was it like working with Charlie Sheen and Miley Cyrus?
Couldn’t tell you. I spent most of my time on the set locked in my trailer, working on rewrites, doing bagfuls of blow, and banging my assistant. Hey, that’s what Hollywood’s all about! Besides, I gave her a job in a kiosk when production was over, so everything worked out in the end. I do miss the coke, though. If there’s anybody who can score some awesome drugs, it’s Charlie Sheen’s hair stylist. I’d work with him again in a heartbeat.
What about the rumors surrounding you with regard to your sexual relationship with Monkey Dan’s robot stunt double. Is there any truth to what the press was saying, that you had the robot installed in your trailer and that you had it dressed as Sally Field in Norma Rae…
Now, come on, come on…
…and that you demanded that the robot be outfitted with latex genitalia modeled after upskirt photos of Lindsay Lohan?
Look, it’s Hollywood. It’s a different world there, and when in Rome, right? Everybody had sex robots on that set, not just me. Vin Diesel had one that looked like Mary, Queen of Scots, for Christ sake. Charlie Sheen’s looked like Emilio Estevez, which was kind of weird, but whatever floats your boat. Tom Cruise had one that looked like himself, and you want to judge me? There was some weird shit going down during that production, let me tell you. Will Ferrell killed a guy, but the studio covered it up. Killed him with a blowgun. Ferrell’s insane, he’ll take out your eyeball with a spoon if you cross him. See this scar? Right there? Will Ferrell shanked me in the shower because I tried to cut in front of him at the lunch line. Stuck me right between the ribs. I’m telling you, he’s a psychopath.
Do you feel that…
Gave it a twist, too, once he stuck it in there, spun it like a screwdriver. Said he’d kill my whole family if I did anything like that again. Total, complete psychopath.
Yes, well, do you feel that you’re stretching yourself thin at all artistically, with the books and the films and the videogames and the breakfast cereal and the personal lubricants and the pet food line…
I’m more than just the art. I’m all about the brand, the Nigel Paresis brand. People see my aerosol deodorant, or my frozen biscuits, or my line of specialty dildos, and they know that what they’re investing in is Nigel Paresis, and Nigel Paresis means quality. It really does, I trademarked it.
We haven’t even touched on your thirty year recording career or the work you’ve done with getting temporary visas to needy, college-age Russian girls who are seeking employment with Paresis Industries…
Very needy Russian girls. Very college-age.
… but unfortunately, I am just about out of time for now. Hopefully I can return in the future to continue this fascinating discussion on your amazing life and works. Before your men have me removed from the building, however, one last question.
If there was one thing that you’d like to be remembered for, some aspect of Nigel Paresis that would be left behind for future generations to know you and your works by, what would it be?
I think it would have to be my extremely large penis. Yes, definitely it would be the penis.
Thank you for your time, Nigel Paresis. The entire world appreciates it.
Definitely the penis. Hoo boy, would it be the penis. Like a Amazonian anaconda. Totally.