(this interview originally appeared on the Jess Resides Here blog, I’m reposting here for the benefit of Coffin Hoppers)
Hi everyone, Eric Garrison here. As part of the Four ’til Late blog tour, I’ve been asked to interview one of my own characters from Four ’til Late. I’m sitting here at the Irish Lion in Bloomington, Indiana, talking with Roger…
Gonzo: Hey. We said no real names, right? It’s Gonzo to you, buddy.
Eric: Right, sorry, Gonzo. Just so the folks out there know, your nickname doesn’t come from the Muppets, right?
Gonzo: This is an interview? Come on. You said there’d be Jameson involved.
Gonzo: Ahh, that’s better. Yeah, I share my nickname with the great Hunter S. Thompson. There’s a guy who knew how to have a good time. And to write too, unlike some people.
Eric: Ha ha. Wait. Are you saying…
Gonzo: I’m just joshing you, kid. Ahh, this is the stuff. I could use one after that road trip.
Eric: So I’ve heard. Ghosts, demons…
Gonzo: What, you too? That stuff’s a bunch of crap. No, I meant all the damn drama. Jimbo and his psycho hosebeast of a girlfriend. Brett and Liz making kissyface in the back of Soccer Mom…
Eric: Soccer Mom is your van?
Gonzo: Yeah, it’s an inside joke. Not the best gas mileage, but she’s an excellent road trip machine. Got us there and back again, ya know?
Eric: Right, right. So you still don’t believe in the paranormal, not even after all you’ve been through?
Gonzo: You know what? My whiskey’s broken. How about a Guinness to console me?
Eric: Yeah, okay. Bartender? Make it two.
Gonzo: I’m not saying weird s**t didn’t happen, because it did. Can’t explain much of it. But it was my road trip, man! You understand that? I work my ass off and expect some quality time with my friends, some good music, good food, and a few drinks. To kick back. That’s not a lot to ask for, is it?
Eric: Well, no, but…
Gonzo: Right. So if Casper wants to f**k with someone, he can do it on his own time.
Eric: So you had a lousy time?
Gonzo: Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I did enjoy tazing that zombie trucker guy.
Eric: Zombie? Hey, that’s paranormal…
Gonzo: Yeah, shut up. That’s what Brett called him. Easier than explaining how the guy had too many screws loose and didn’t know how the shower worked. Hey, you know what’s better than a Guinness?
Eric: sigh Two Guinness?
Gonzo: I think I’m beginning to like you, kid.
Eric: Fine, answer a couple more questions, and I’ll get another round.
Gonzo: You sir, are a gentleman and a scholar.
Eric: So you don’t believe in ghosts, but you can’t explain things. What’s the strangest thing you saw on the trip?
Gonzo: Jimbo in a skirt takes the cake. Liz didn’t do a bad job making him up for the Halloween street party, but damn that guy makes an ugly woman.
Eric: Uh… Okay, what’s the strangest thing you couldn’t explain?
Gonzo: I think it’ll always be a mystery to me… Well, I just shouldn’t say.
Eric: Please, go on?
Gonzo: Well, it’ll haunt me to the end of my days, you know.
Eric: What will?
Gonzo: If you must know. It’s beyond my comprehension what they put in the gumbo at the Rum Boogie in Memphis. That s**t has me craving it, even weeks later. I probably don’t want to know.
Eric: sigh You know what I mean, Gonzo.
Gonzo: Ha! That’s funny, and you know it. You need some of the Irish yourself, and you’d know it’s true.
Eric: Gonzo, please.
Gonzo: I’d tell you more, but I’m a bit dry.
Eric: Just answer it, already, or something terrible will happen to Soccer Mom in the next book!
Gonzo: Now you’re just being nasty. Fine. I can think of rational explanations for just about everything, except for that f**king glowing hand I saw.
Gonzo: We were at the Effing Hole. A fine drinking establishment, but you wouldn’t want to eat there. We’d been served some soggy fries and I’d had a couple of beers, when the lights went out. No lights but some candles on the tables. Except this sort of greenish glow from the TV. It was off, you understand? Well, this shape glowed in the middle of that dead screen, a brighter green, moving like it was alive. A hand, pressing on the screen. From the inside, kid. I saw lines on the palm, and if Liz’d been there, she could have told it’s fortune. Thought it might press hard enough to bust through the glass, but then the lights came back, and the TV was back to normal.
Eric: I think that’s going to give me nightmares.
Gonzo: Pansy. You wrote the damn story.
Eric: Why do you think I wrote that in there?
Gonzo: Good point. Know what helps me forget nightmares?
Eric: Way ahead of you. Bartender, make it two Jamesons this time.