Interview: Smurfette

PV: I've got to tell you, I'm a huge fan.

S: Stop smurfing at me like that, you leering perv. As if I'd ever smurf a human.

PV: Looking at you like what?

S: You're un-smurfing me with your eyes.

PV: No I'm not. I'm a married man. I don't think impure thoughts about any women, let alone a Smurf. Even if she is the lone female smurf. So hot, so lonely, just waiting for prince charming to whisk her away from a life of cruel exploitation amid an all-male society. So luscious and tempting, but no. I must resist the urge to declare my lifelong lust for the petite blue sex object of my dreams.

S: Did you realize you smurfed that out loud?

P: Was I? Damn. OK, I'll admit it. There was a time in my life when all I could think about was making sweet, sensuous love to you. But that was long ago, 1985. I was 7. You were my one true love in between Ms. Pac Man and Punky Brewster. But no more. I moved on.

S: Good to hear. You'd be smurfed how many fellas your age are still smurfed on me.

P: Do you mean like "Donnie Darko" director Richard Kelly?

S: Yeah, smurf-ally. His sick little smurf-asy about me smurfing Papa Smurf while Gargamel watches and smurfs off? Disgusting.

P: So?

S: So what?

P: Is there any truth to that. Like, did you have sex with other smurfs, and if so, which ones?

S: There was one special fella, but no. A smurf never smurfs and smurfs.

P: Oh, come on. Everyone really needs to know. It's like one of the greatest mysteries in this world outside of who shot J.F.K. and why people watched "Friends."

S: Smurf off. I'll never tell.

P: Playing hardball, eh? OK, tell me what smurfs you smurfed or else I'm going to release that smurf tape that has you smurfing Gargamel's cat over the Internet.

S: There... uh, is no smurf tape.

P: Try me. I've got it downloaded on my computer at home. I'm not above extortion. Give me the information I demand or else your reputation goes up in flames.

S: I should be so lucky. Did you see what a smurf tape smurfed for Smurfis Smirfton? I'll be insta-famous and hanging with Britney and Lindsay in a heartbeat.

P: Allright, you called my bluff, Smurfette. There is no tape. And even if there were , it would do far more good for your celebrity status than bad. I've got nothing. Will you forgive me?

S: Forget about it. I've gotta be smurfing. It's been smurf.

P: But, but wait! Oh, is this your cell phone? It's beeping! Come back, Smurfette! You've got a text message.... from... hm... Brainy Smurf. It says "whatup, meet me bhind the smurf for a smurfjob." Whoah, total booty call. Your secret is unsafe with me, Smurfette! Damn, I'm so jealous of you, Brainy Smurf.

Interview: Binky the Troll

PV: Thank you for sitting down with me, Binky. I've always admired your work, going back to your days as a pencil topper. Talk about a rough start to your career.

B: It's a tough job, man. Erasers aren't as comfortable as you might think, especially without lube.

PV: Gross. It must help a little bit that pencil topper trolls are designed with huge holes in their rear ends to accommodate pencils, no?

B: Son, your hole is probably bigger than anything I ever had. Don't tell me you'd be cool with sticking a pencil up there.

PV: Ugh, no. That had to have been brutal for you, spending years like that.

B: It wasn't no picnic, that's for sure. But it was showbiz. You take what you can get when you're starting out.

PV: True. And it led to big things for you. Soon after you had a whole doll line, plush toys, shirts, even a cartoon, right? There wasn't a little girl alive in 1991 that didn't have four or five trolls in her possession. You have got to be a millionaire.

B: Correction - WAS a millionaire, then a little thing came along called the dot com boom. My financial guy lost all my dough on yahoooo.com.

PV: Yahoo? I thought that made a lot of money.

B: Yahoo with only two o's did, but the kind with four o's went belly up after like a month, taking my life savings, future and, to be frank with you, my will to live along with it.

PV: Geez, no wonder your purple hair stands on end.

B: Oh, a frizzy hair joke. How original.

PV: I thought it was funny.

B: You know who else thinks jokes about hair are funny? Don Imus. I don't think he's laughing anymore. And it's all because of me.

PV: It's not like you had anything to do with that, though. It was all Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson.

B: Dude, Al Sharpton IS a troll. We went to third grade together.

PV: You know, that does make a lot of sense. Please don't have me fired from my job and ostracized by the fickle media.

B: No promises, but if you buy some of my T-shirts, dolls and videos, I may cut you a break.

PV: Dude, I'm not buying any of that crap. Never have and never will.

B: Sigh. That's exactly what today's third-grade girls are telling me. I may as well end it all.

PV: Aw, cheer up. You can always go back to pencil topping?

B: I'll pencil-top you.

Interview: The Easter Bunny

PV: Hey, what's up Easter?

EB: I prefer the nickname E.B., Pimpaster E. Would you like a Peep or a dyed egg?

PV: Got any Cadbury Eggs?

EB: Hell no. I mean, I do, but I wouldn't give those away for free. They're as expensive as a motha...

PV: Shut yo mouth.

EB: But I'm talkin' bout Cadbury.

PV: And I can dig it.

EB: Candy's getting more expensive these days. Candy, gas and bitches.

PV: Bitches? What do you mean?

EB: You know - ladies of the night.

PV: Why, Easter Bunny, you frequent prostitutes? I never would have guessed. Don't you think that kind of activity is out of line for a religious holiday mascot?

EB: Dude, I'm a rabbit and I got needs. When I'm not out delivering baskets and hiding eggs, I be fornicating all sorts.

PV: Right, but shouldn't you live up to Christian ideals?

EB: Christian? I'm pagan, bro.

PV: But no! You're all about Jesus and the resurrection and saving humanity's souls!

EB: Nope. Common misconception. The name of the holiday Easter is derived from the pagan fertility goddess Ishtar. Get it, Easter-Ishtar, Ishtar-Easter?

PV: Whoah. You're going all Da Vinci Code on me.

EB: Crazy, ain't it? It's OK though. Most people nowadays think Easter is all about bunnies and eggs and whatnot. Kids all over the world worship me.

PV: Those kids are so dumb. How can they possibly believe in such an ignorant concept as you? A giant rabbit who distributes baskets of plastic grass and candy?

EB: You used to believe in me.

PV: Shut your mouth.

Interview: Grimace

PV: Hi there.

G: Hello, sir.

PV: Wow, dude. I didn't realize you spoke.

G: Of course I do! Are you telling me you haven't seen the direct-to-video 1998 film "The Wacky Adventures of Ronald McDonald: Scared Silly?"

PV: Nah, I missed that one. To tell you the truth, Grimace, the only real experience with you came back in 1985. We met at the opening of a Flagstaff McDonald's back then. Do you remember me?

G: Ah yes, I never forget a face. I remember you well. And your little sister. She didn't think much of me, as I recall.

PV: Grimace, you scared the hell out of her. Linda was 5 years old at the time, and your very presence made her cry her little eyes out.

G: I have that effect on people. It's tough being a purple tub of fluffy goo.

PV: Oh, don't be so hard on yourself, guy. You also bring lots of smiles and laughter?

G: As well as juvenile heart disease and high cholesterol. I don't know how I've lived with myself all these years, peddling junk food to the defenseless little angels. I'm such a horrible person.

PV: You're a person? I always considered you as some sort of lake creature or perhaps a bridge troll.

G: Maybe I am. No one really knows where I came from. Have you ever seen anything else that looked remotely like me? And please don't say "Jabba the Hutt."

PV: Come on, Grimace. You look nothing like a Hutt. Don't be so hard on yourself. Jabba kidnapped people and froze them in carbonite. Jabba killed.

G: I have killed.

P: Really?

G: Yes, with a thousand little cuts. With my trans fats, sodium and carbs.

PV: Well, yeah, but like, compared to Joe the Camel, you're Gandhi.

G: Compared to Joe Camel, George W. Bush Gandhi.

PV: Yeah, but look at it this way. It's not so much your fault that kids worldwide are getting addicted to McDonald's thanks to your coersive image. A 5 year old can't quite drive his tricycle through the drive-thru. Blame the parents.

G: Don't patronize me. I can't take anymore. I must end it.

(Grimace picks up a long, narrow instrument of death and points it at his mouth.

PV: Don't do it, brother! Think of the good times!

G: Sigh, I must.

PV: Nooooooo!

G: Goodbye, cruel world. I will commit an act of atrocity on my body and begin the process which will conclude my pathetic, miserable life.

(Grimace eats a french fry.)