Corey Mesler The Interview The interviewer crossed his metaphorical legs and asked me metaphorical questions. I answered as pithily as I could, shackled as I was to the sleeping dog. It went fairly well, I thought, until the question about my quatrain. I asked in return about his sister and things got prickly. In the end the interviewer threw up his metaphorical arms and declared me full of something unpleasant. I asked when I could expect to see this is print, our back and forth. He said when Hell starts serving mint juleps. I thought that a fine turn of phrase and told him so. He sat back down and grinned a metaphorical grin. Now, let’s get started, he said. |