Imogene: Who are you talking to? And who the hell are you anyway?
SDB: Oh, I’m an author. I created you.
I: Yeah, okay, psycho.
SDB: So, Imogene, you’re the lead character in Bite Somebody Else, available now! Did you ever think you’d become a literary celebrity?
I: Bitch, please. I’ve been a celebrity my whole life.
SDB: Right. Okay. Um. Tell me about Nicholas. What was it like when you two first met?
I: He was an annoying, posh little know-it-all. I mean, he’s not little. (Butt-head chuckle.) He was hot, but he was a total dick. I didn’t trust him at all—especially because of his spiffy suits. What kind of guy wears a thousand dollar suit to the beach?
SDB: Well, he is British…
I: So? Like they don’t have beaches there? Wait, do they have beaches there?
SDB: (Blank stare.) I have no idea. I think so.
I: So, at first, I didn’t trust him. Plus, he wasn’t interested in me, so he was obviously an idiot.
SDB: But you’ve never been the relationship type anyway—until you met Celia and Ian.
I: Dude. Don’t make me sick.
SDB: I’m serious. I think you would consider them your best friends. What do you think is the key to your friendship with Celia?
I: (Shrugs.) I don’t ever want to murder her with garden shears.
SDB: (Frowns.) And that’s… it? The key to your friendship?
I: Sort of. I want to kill lots of people with garden shears. Like my neighbor down the beach who listens to country music all the time. Or that waitress who was making googly eyes at Nicholas the other night.
SDB: Well, Nicholas is really hot.
I: You wanna be added to my death list, author girl?
I: So, yeah, I never want to kill Celia with garden shears. Or Ian. I can’t imagine them not being around. That’s friendship, right?
SDB: That was kind of sweet.
I: Nobody calls me sweet.
SDB: I know. I created you.
I: Oh, yeah? If that’s true, what size combat boots do I wear?
SDB: Eight and a half.
I: Huh. Shit.
SDB: If you were stranded on a desert island with one album, what would it be?
I: One album! (Screams like a banshee.) Are you insane!
SDB: Fine. Pick a couple albums. I don’t know why I wrote you with such a bad temper.
I: Is it fair if I list a bunch of greatest hits albums, because—let’s face it—if I was stranded on a desert island, I assume I swam there from some wrecked boat full of sexy drunk sailors whose blood I sucked and I probably won’t be able to carry that much. So David Bowie greatest hits. Queen greatest hits: the red album, because it has “Don’t Stop Me Now” and “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy.” I’ll overlook “Bicycle Race” because I’d forgive Freddie anything. And I guess I’d have to go with The Wedding Singer soundtrack because it’s a perfect mish mash of all that was right in the eighties.
SDB: For someone who seems kind of ADD, that was a very detailed response.
I: Music is important. Just ask Nicholas.
SDB: Back to Nicholas: what’s your favorite thing about him?
I: The way his ass looks in tight pants.
SDB: (Eye roll.) That is not your favorite thing about Nicholas.
I: Then, what is, author girl?
SDB: He makes you laugh.
I: God, you make me sound like such a sap. I don’t think I like you.
SDB: People claim you’re based on me, so that means you don’t like yourself.
I: You have blue hair, bitch! I have purple. We are nothing alike.
SDB: Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Look, you’re one of the lead characters in two of my books, so I guess I should ask what wisdom you’d like to share with the world. You’ve been a vampire for over twenty years. What have you learned?
I: Don’t show up to imaginary meetings with psycho, blue-haired bitches.
I: You want me to get deep for a minute? Fine, I’ll get deep. Don’t change for anyone. Friends, lovers, Nicholas… they love me because I’m me. Unapologetically. I know I’m not nice, author girl. I know I say shitty things. I drink too much blood. I cuss too much. I embarrass people, and I’ve lost friends for being that way. But Celia and Ian, Nicholas, even Dr. Savage and her human—they know the real me, and they like me anyway. Oh, I guess that’s what real friendship is, huh? Knowing the worst about someone and loving them anyway.
SDB: (Chin wobble.) Yeah, I think so.
I: Oh, my God, are you crying?
SDB: No. I’m just proud of how far you’ve come. You’re all grown up. You should have seen yourself in book one.
I: Do people actually read your silly books?
SDB: Amazingly, yes.
I: Huh. Maybe I’ll write a book. I’ll call it “The Purple-Headed Monster.” Wait, I think that’s slang for a penis, isn’t it?
SDB: (Sigh.) I rescind my previous statement about your maturity.