An Interview with My Dark Side

We all have a dark side-every one of us. Sure some are darker than others, but even Mother Teresa had a side of her that probably whispered in her ear, "Let's get the hell out of this fly-fest, get drunk, and pick up some guys." I know I have a much darker side than she did, but I've still managed to keep him pretty much in check. Recently, I had a chance to sit down and have a chat with my dark side and as you will soon find out, he lives under the illusion that he controls me. That's a laugh!

Me: Thanks for taking time out from your busy schedule to meet with me.

Dark Side: Busy schedule? What busy schedule? I don't do shit-you know that. I just lay back in my recliner, drink beer, smoke dope and read Big Boob Mamas Magazine.

Me: Yeah...well anyway...I'd like to say that you're even better looking in person than you are in the mirror, except you used to part your hair on the other side, didn't you?

DS: That's 'cause you were seeing me in the mirror, you dumbass. Gotta say you're pretty goddamn stupid. Good thing you look like me or you'd be about as useful as tits on a nun.

Me: I've been told we kind of look alike. In fact I use a picture of you for my Facebook profile and...

DS: Yeah, yeah, yeah...that's really interesting... So let's cut the crap. What the hell do you want with me, you little weasel?

Me: I just thought I'd ask you a few questions and try to get some insight into what goes on in that strange, little mind of yours.

DS: There's pretty much only one thing on my mind and you know what that is. But since you don't seem too bright, I'll give you a hint: starts with an S and ends with an X and there's an E in there somewhere.

Me: Yes, yes, I know. That seems to be all you ever think about.

DS: Yeah...that and killing you.

Me: But where does all that come from-all the weird things you come up with? Why do all of your articles have so much sex, drinking, drugs and anger?

DS: Hey, you're the one who writes this crap. Don't blame me.

Me: Yes, but it comes from you. Whenever I sit down at the keyboard, you tell me what to write and I write it. In fact I have to censor it a little so no one thinks I'm such a sick bastard and no one gets too offended. Anyone who knows me knows I'm not that demented. They know it comes from somewhere else.

DS: Yeah, whatever. So you got anything else or can I go back to waxing my carrot?

Me: No, I have more questions.

DS: Shit!

Me: Where did you come from? I was doing just fine for years being a normal, upstanding citizen and then when I started doing some writing you kept coming around with your sick, sick crap and whispering in my ear. Then I'd read what I'd just written and think, "Holy crap! Where did that come from? Did I write that?"

DS: I've always been there, dipshit. Been there since day one just hiding out and trying like hell to make you interesting-which, by the way, is no easy task. You had to be the good little boy always doing the right thing. Always responsible and level-headed. Christ, you'd make me sick sometimes! You realize how goddamn boring you were before I came along? Who do you think is the one who turned you on to George Carlin? Who introduced you to Zeppelin? Who talked you into taking your first peak at a Playboy centerfold when you were 12? If it wasn't for me you'd probably think Leno is funny. You'd be listening to Clay Aiken and you'd be reading Chicken Soup for the Soul or some horseshit crap like that. You should be grateful I took over.

Me: Took over? You didn't take over! You never took over! I'm still in charge here!

DS: Whatever, numbnuts. Just keep telling yourself that. But read some of the shit you wrote. It's all right there in black-and-white.

Me: Again, that's you, not me! I'm a loving, caring husband, father and grandfather-ask my family. I couldn't possibly be that way if you were to ever take over. You're just there when I write-that's when I let you in a little bit just to spice things up. But I decide how much to let you in and I'm still in control of everything.

DS: Yeah right. Face it dumbass, I'm the one who decides things around here. I decide to let you in a little bit just so you don't get arrested. If I wanted to, I could take total control and then you'd wind up in prison scared shitless you're gonna drop the soap in the shower.

Me: Ha! That's a laugh! All I have to do is stop writing and off you go, never to be heard from again. Now that's control!

DS: Are you about done with this crap? I gotta get back to my booze. I'm starting to lose my buzz.

Me: Yeah, go back to your recliner and your beer and your dope and your porn and your carrot. I'll give you a call if and when I ever need you again. But remember this: I'm the one who runs the show here and don't you ever forget it!

DS: Yeah, whatever dipshit. You just keep telling yourself that.