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Monday, November 26, 2007

A Craving For Chocolate

The applause was deafening, and as I made my way onto the stage I found it necessary to evade the storm of undergarments and roses falling all around me. Several women on the front row were overcome by the emotions brought forth from witnessing first hand my raw and fierce sexuality and had to be carted off to safety. An unscheduled commercial break was ordered when Oprah herself had to be excused so she could change into a fresh pair of panties. I could only chuckle when Stephen King was brought on stage to join me and the thunder died to a much more subdued, polite smattering.

"So, are you two related in any way?" Oprah asked, getting the interview underway.

"No, ma'am," I said, "My name is only a psuedonym. If my true identity is revealed, the nation could find itself in grave danger. Plus, my parents don't want to be bothered by paparazzi."

"Where does the name 'Fisherking' come from?" she asked.

"I studied bass fishing at university. After being drafted number one overall into the professional bass fishing tour, and winning league MVP three straight years, I was forced to retire due to injuries. Plus, I wake up most mornings to a 'fishy' smell."

"Amazing," she said, "What sort of injuries forced your retirement?"

"I have 'bass elbow'," I said.

"Ouch," she said, and turned to Stephen King, "Tell me, Stephen, what brings you here?"

"Um, well, I was told my book made it into your book club," Stephen said.

"Ooh, really?" she said, "What's it about?"

"Oh, you haven't read it?" he asked, perplexed, "Well, let's see, it's really scary. It has Indian burial grounds and vampires and, um, pit bulls and Freddy Krueger and black people, and, um, what else is scary? Um, let's see, there are Mexicans and..."

"Really great," Oprah said, "Now Fisherking, what are you doing later on tonight?"

"Now wait a minute!" Stephen said angrily, "It's my turn! You already talked to him. I'm Stephen King! I'm one of the most successful authors of all time!"

"Yeah, you're really good," I said, "Loved Maximum Overdrive, by the way. And you were great as 'Skippy' on Family Ties."

"Screw you!" he said, "What have you even done?"

"I wrote an episode of The Cosby Show that convinced Keith Richards to give up drugs," I said, "And I wrote Anna Nicole Smith's obituary six month's before she died."

"Really?" Oprah asked.

"Yeah," I said, "I just had to change the name from Britney Spears to Anna Nicole, but the rest happened pretty much just how I wrote it."

"Amazing," she said.

"I have to admit, that is pretty cool," Stephen said, "And, at the risk of sounding gay, you're a stunningly attractive fellow."

"Thanks bro," I said, "I can't lie to you and say you're not hideously unbearable to look at, but your writing doesn't suck too bad."

"Fair enough," he said. The audience let loose a collective and tender sigh, then burst into applause.

"We'll be back after these messages," Oprah said to the camera before turning to me.

"Do you have dinner plans for tonight?" she asked.

"None," I said, "But I have a craving for chocolate."

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