YET ANOTHER INSANE GROCERY BAG INTERVIEWS ME

Insane Grocery Bag: First of all, you should know that when I conduct interviews, I don't like to waste time and dance around the issues like some jigging handbag. Do you have a problem with that?

Jeremy C. Shipp: No, that's fine.

IGB: Are you sure? I'm going to thrash you with hard-hitting questions until you beg for mercy, while I'm towering over you with a machete in one hand and spoiled milk in the other. I'm speaking metaphorically, of course. Are you sure you're OK with that?

JCS: I guess.

IGB: Great. Now, what do you think is my favorite color?

JCS: I have no idea.

IGB: I'm asking you to guess.

JCS: Red?

IGB: It's interesting that you'd say that, because I remember reading in one of your past interviews that your favorite color is red. This leads me to believe that you're projecting your own feelings onto me. How do you think that makes me feel?

JCS: I'm sorry.

IGB: That wasn't a rhetorical question. I want to know how you think that makes me feel.

JCS: Sad?

IGB: No, Jerms. I feel sort of nostalgic.

JCS: Could you not call me Jerms?

IGB: I'm the one asking the question, Jerns. I mean, Jerms. Sorry. Now, take a look at this inkblot. What do you see?

JCS: That's my hand.

IGB: What an interesting mind you have. I'm jealous.

JCS: No, that's my actual hand.

IGB: So you're anthropomorphizing inkblots now, are you? That's as sick and disturbing as my inner bag fungus.

JCS: You know, I find that statement ironic, coming from an anthropomorphized object.

IGB: Don't you dare objectify me, you villainous horseshoe!

JCS: What's that supposed to mean?

IGB: You sound awfully defensive. Maybe I hit a nerve or two. Were you ever attacked by a horde of rabid horseshoes as a kid?

JCS: No.

IGB: Did you ever drown in a pool of Lucky Charms cereal?

JCS: OK, I've had enough. I'm leaving.

IGB: No, don't go!

JCS: Goodbye.

IGB: Why do you always abandon me like this, dad?!? I mean, Jeremy. I mean, Jerms. I mean, you're a germ, and I'm going to wash you clean with the horseshoe-shaped soap of childhood trauma.

JCS: No you're not.

IGB: Can I interest you in a joke? Just one. Then you can go, and I won't try to infect your ankles in your sleep.

JCS: OK, one joke.

IGB: Great! I love telling fungus jokes. Here it goes. What did one mushroom say to another mushroom?

JCS: You're a fun guy?

IGB: Thanks, dad. You are too. Can I live with you?

JCS: Um…

IGB: Please? I'll be everything you ever wanted in a grocery bag.

JCS: Well…OK.

IGB: Huzzah! Can I have some Lucky Charms tomorrow morning after I wake up from my dream world?

JCS: I actually only have granola.

IGB. Oh. Well. Never mind. You can go soak your fat head.

JCS: Fine. Bye.

IGB: Goodbye. I mean, germ-bye.