What's your name?
“Olivia Baker.”
How old are you?
“Sixteen.”
What do you look like?
“Like a composition of atoms and dust, random matter… are you sure you want to walk down this road, fella? I mean, I’m sure you’ve already been asked why you would ask such a question when the person you’re asking is sitting right in front of you. But, I suppose lesser minds need assistance in order to comprehend what they’re seeing… or something.”
“As you can clearly see, my attempt to dye my hair blond failed, horribly, not to mention that it has stated to grow back out, which means that my dark brown roots should be showing…” she muttered and rumbled her fingers around on her scalp. “Fucking piece of shit Walmart products; they cannot get anything right over there, can they?”
“Another thing that you can clearly see is that my lips are outrageously inflated. And yes, I do trip on wires even if Lieutenant Dan told me to tuck those gums in. I also poke myself with forks when I eat and bite myself more than I should when chewing on stuff. I’m not a huge fan of my lips, or of my huge chin or green eyes.”
“What you cannot see, since I’m sitting down, is that I’m 5’4. I like my height, in contrast to everything else. Also, I’m sort of wide… as if I was run over by a car, but I’m not chubby. It’s a weird combination… no scientific explanation available. But, I suppose it doesn’t matter. People tell me I’m cute anyway.”
“You can also hear that I’m from Hillbilly County of the world, Alabama, which is… well, it is what it is. What am I supposed to do about it now?”
Do you have any hobbies?
“You know, people think that I sit at home and do calculus or whatever because it’s fun. It’s not fun. Not that I don’t know math, but I don’t have to think that it’s fun. People also think that I just know shit, which is true, but in reality, I don’t. I figure stuff out by myself by reading humongous amounts of philosophy, because in the end, whatever you do, everything becomes subjective and hypothetical bullshit. So, that’s what I do, I read about what other people think about everything and once you know what people think, you know how whatever they thought about works, and then you know everything about anything without really knowing shit. I’m not particularly smart. People are just dumb, like you, for asking these questions.”
“I suppose I read and write a lot, but I wouldn’t consider these activities as hobbies. I already told you what I read, and I mostly write my thoughts about things down on paper for no particular reason. I also write to publishers, asking them to burn their offices down for putting out such shitty-ass books about things that the authors have no fucking idea. I’m not trying to be cruel or anything, I’m just honest about people’s stupidity.”
“Let’s see…what else… that’s about it really, anything that does not involve speaking or interacting with other people. Whenever that happens, migraines are assured.”
Any dislikes?
“Yeah, I don’t like you… and… people who suddenly stop at the end of escalators, as if they are the only person in the whole fucking world. I also don’t like it when the gays rub their sexual orientation in my face. Like, what gives man? It’s not like I go around and repeatedly say that I’m straight. Keep that shit to yourself. Oh, and women who have recently become mothers and think that their opinion about anything is absolute truth because they have kids… fuck you.”
Tell me, what are your goals for the future? Both immediate and long-term.
“My doomsday device should be ready soon, but until then… I suppose I’ll attend whichever collage that I deem worthy of my mind. I’ll most likely study philosophy or mathematics, perhaps both. Other than that… I don’t really have any immediate goals other than not succumb to insanity. I suppose I’ll help some of my… eh… friends… to comprehend their own existence.”
What's your home life like? Specifically, what is your relationship like with your parents?
“My parents bathe in the delight of my greatness, ever since we moved here and long before that. Besides that, things are pretty calm at home. Most of my siblings have moved out, they’re grown adults for Christ’s sake. I’m the youngest and the smartest, so of course my parents are going to love me more. I’m not trying to sound selfish or anything, it’s just logic—can’t deny it."
Siblings?
“Yep… seven of them… my parents didn’t know about birth control until the late nineties. They’re a bit slow down there in hillbilly country. I’m the last and smartest of this great line of idiots… and… before you ask… Mark, Jason, Steven, Miranda, Jane, William, and Stacey.”
What's your favorite animal, and why?
“What? Oh, you’re really pushing it now, aren’t you? Fuck, I don’t know… I suppose I like Wasps, because if you’re a dumbass, they’ll sting you back to the Stone Age.”
Favorite color?
“White. No, I’m not a racist.”
You wake up late one night to discover that your house is burning down. What do you do?
“I walk outside and then I’ll call the fire department. My parents, what about them? Oh, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” she said and chuckled loudly.
Finally, a tricky one; which came first, the chicken or the egg?
“Is this your attempt at being philosophical? Why don’t you fuck yourself with these questions, fella… I’m outta here.”
What do you think about Likka Guiomar?
“I thought I made it perfectly clear that I don’t like people and that I don’t really know anyone or have any friends. Besides, I thought I told you to go fuck yourself with these questions, fella. But… whatever, fine, who? Oh, yeah, right… hmpf” she muttered. “It’s difficult to forget a name like that, even if you don't have eidetic memory. He’s a monkey, always climbing on shit when and if I happen to see him. What’s up with that anyway? Fuck, what else… what was the question? What I think? I don’t even know the guy, how am I supposed to have an opinion? I heard a rumor that he beat the shit out of some bitch that gave him an attitude. I like that. He is the type of guy that gives orders, because you have to remember that the only thing in this world that gives orders is balls—spoken by the ultimate badass of all time, Tony Montana. This likka guy has balls. Maybe I should get to know him and have him kick some ass for me. There are plenty of people whose asses need to be handed to them in this fucking town. Yeah… I’ll do that.”
What do you think about Mario Russo?
“Who, greaseball? I’d feed him some mushrooms if I didn’t think he wasn’t already getting enough from his daddy’s pizza-place,” she said and cringed in body-aching laughter. “Haha! Get it?” she inquired of the interviewer, but the man was more devoid of emotion than a Federal Agent. “Awwh…, come on, it was funny. I bet you’ll laugh your ass off when this here bullshit is over and done with…. anyway, I heard he was a Scout or something, which is alright I guess—my dad was one of them boy scouts when he was a kid. It’s not my thing, but I’m glad it worked out well for him… for both of them. Other than that, he seems to know what the fuck he wants and where his priorities are, which is good. Oh, yeah, one more thing: he has a thing for Melissa. It’s obvious as fuck itself. I know Melissa, because her mom and my mom are in the same Book Club, so we see each other on the weekends sometimes. Trust me, when the time comes, I’ll use this as leverage against Mario.”
What do you think about Maxine Jackson?
“Ah, freckles, huh? Fuck, I don’t know. She seems so oblivious, like, if the world was coming to an end, she’d be distracted by some bouncy spherical object while everyone else is running for their lives. Yeah… what else… I heard something about gymnastics, which sounds exhausting, but if she’s good at it, then that’s great. I should get off of my fat butt and do something myself, but I’m too lazy for that shit. Perhaps Max can motivate me somehow. I’ll manipulate her into being my personal trainer for free, should be easy enough!” she said and chuckled.
What do you think about Jason Bertrand?
“Mr. Ethical Feels? Fucking cry me a river. I should be nicer, but who gives a shit about emotions? They’re the scourge of humanity. Love is the worst, as it makes you dumb as the fucking night is dark. I should cuss less as well, come to think of it… but I like it. There is no other word such as ‘fuck’ that can describe so many things. Anyway… my dad likes him. My dad is a frequent customer at the hardware store where Jason works. If my dad likes him, then I guess he’s OK.”
