Day 3. 26 pages, 9,171 words.

For the second instalment of my lazy, lazy stuff-what-I-found-in-an-old-archive-folder-from-2002 weekend, I would like to offer you the following: An Interview with Saint Chucky. Before he was made famous and big-headed by end-of-book author’s notes.

Based on a true story.

Interview with the Saint

Saint Chucky recently had the pleasure of interviewing one of his greatest admirers, Saint Chucky, on one of his all-time favourite topics: Saint Chucky.

Interviewer: Thank you so much for agreeing to this interview. We’re all very honoured.

St. C: I know.

Interviewer: And I love your shirt. You have excellent dress-sense.

St. C: Aw shucks.

Interviewer: Now, can you tell us a little bit about your experience last Saturday? I hear through the grapevine that you had a bit of a brush with fame.

St. C: I did indeed! That day, my wife and I were wandering through the back-streets of Helsinki, as we are wont to do of a Saturday afternoon. We were thinking about catching a movie, and as it happens, we did (review pending). But before that, we happened to be strolling past a DVD shop.

Interviewer: They have DVDs in Finland?

St. C: Oh yes. of course, many people still believe that if you watch a DVD, it will steal your soul, but that’s another matter entirely. We don’t have a DVD player, but nevertheless we moseyed inside so I could order another few tapes in my ever-growing collection of “Star Trek: Voyager” videos. After a few minutes of sign language with the fellow behind the counter – my Finnish is still not tremendous – I learned that they could not order video cassettes, only their second store elsewhere in the city, the original Filmifriikki shop, could do that. But I digress from the actual point.

Interviewer: You’re still very interesting.

St. C: I am indeed.

Interviewer: So after you found out there were no video cassettes available?

St. C: I turned to leave the shop. That was when I noticed something eerie.

Interviewer: Eerie?

St. C: As in, not nosey, and not mouthy. The shop was suddenly empty, and everybody was arranged into a long line down one side of the pavement. Of course, I assumed this was a new tradition I knew nothing about – Finland is rich in culture and rituals, in a way my homeland of Australia never has been. For instance, in Finland there are at least three times more special national days where everybody is obliged to get drunk. I think it has something to do with the weather.

Interviewer: So you joined in?

St. C: But of course. There might have been free alcohol.

Interviewer: Of course. You’re very wise.

St. C: And?

Interviewer: And modest.

St. C: Indeed. So then we stood in the line for quite some time. A larger crowd gathered to watch the line itself, which I thought was rather amusing. The DVD store clerks wandered back and forth along the line, selling postcard-sized photographs of Saruman from that “Lord of the Rings” movie. You know the one.

Interviewer: Oh yes. Mister C of 9 didn’t like it.

St. C: Why am I not surprised … anyway, half an hour or more passed, and I was getting ready to leave, when suddenly a sleek glossy black car pulled up, and a distinguished elderly gentleman stepped out. Imagine my surprise when I realised it was the timeless classic of all Vampires, Christopher Lee himself!

Interviewer: No kidding!

St. C: No kidding. Suddenly, the line and the postcards were explained! Of course, it was a little distressing to see that this veteran, this legend, was only being recognised for his latest, and some say most unfortunate-

Interviewer: -Mister C of 9, for one-

St. C: -Exactly. But regardless, I thought it would be a little offensive to him, that people only know about his one singular flavour-of-the-month type of film, and not the 200-odd other movies he’s been in.

Interviewer: 200!

St. C: Yes. He’s in the Guinness Book of Records.

Interviewer: I’ll have to take your word for that.

St. C: Yes you will.

Interviewer: So how did you settle the score, and let him know that some people still knew him for his great deeds?

St. C: Well to tell the truth, I’m not really sure I did! At first I thought I might sneak through the DVD shop while we were in line, and steal one of his old films and have him sign the cover. But that didn’t work out. And then I remembered my Book of Shadows.

Interviewer: Book of Shadows?

St. C: Indeed! I had it right there in my backpack – I never go anywhere without it. It is an old black leather-bound volume with a pentagram on the front, and a lot of blank pages in the middle.

Interviewer: They’re all blank?

St. C: Not anymore. This was the first decent thing I could think of to put in it, you see. And it was a bit individual, not like all these other things he was signing. He must have been getting sick of signing Sarumans. Sarumen? No, Sarumans.

Interviewer: So he signed the Book of Shadows for you?

St. C: Oh yes. He looked at it sideways for a minute, and then he said, “What’s this then?” in that spooky voice of his.

Interviewer: Spooky. What did you say?

St. C: I said, “It’s a Book of Shadows, Mister Lee,” and he said, “Is it now?” and I said, “Yup.” Then he leafed through it, and saw it was all blank pages. “You haven’t been standing in the sun with it very much, then, have you?” he commented.

Interviewer: And what did you say?

St. C: Well, I said, “You of all people should know how unhealthy it is to stand in the sun, Mister Lee!”

Interviewer: Did you really?

St. C: No. But I should have.

Interviewer: Ah.

St. C: Anyway, I thought he was going to refuse to sign it when he saw the pentagram, but he just seemed amused. What a classy fellow. He asked me where I wanted him to sign it, and I almost asked him to put his name in the middle of the star, but then I folded at the last minute and opted for the first page instead.

Interviewer: And he signed it?

St. C: Oh yes. He mused about whether he should put his name with a pen, or just cast a shadow on it for me – he really worked the “shadows” joke, I have to give him respect for that – but finally just signed it and let me go.

Interviewer: And of course the big question – was he dressed as a Vampire?

St. C: Not really. No cape. Just a smart suit. Of course, being Christopher Lee, he just looked like a Vampire in disguise as a well-dressed old gentleman.

Interviewer: Of course. And was it a disappointment to see him walking about in the daylight?

St. C: I think you’re labouring under a misapprehension here. I did mention we live in Finland, didn’t I?

Interviewer: Oh. I see.

St. C: Quite so.

Interviewer: Well, than you for your time. Again, it was a real privilege.

St. C: Not at all. You’re a really excellent interviewer.

Interviewer: Ahh, but I’m given the best guests.

St. C: True. You should still get a raise.

Interviewer: Perhaps I should ask.

St. C: You should.

Interviewer: You’re an inspiration to me.

St. C: I know.

The End.

Continue to rest in peace, Mister Lee.



I told you it was a true story.

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
This entry was posted in Hatboy's Movie Extravaganza, Kussa mun hopoti? and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to WTFSunday

  1. dreameling says:

    Very cool story, bro. 🙂 I remember the news about him being in Helsinki and visiting Filmifriikki. And to think that you were there by chance. Nice.

    • stchucky says:

      It’s funny because this is the only record we have and neither I nor Mrs. Hatboy remember very much. We’re pretty sure Mrs. Hatboy knew it was happening and that’s why we were in the crappy no-VHS-tapes-for-sale shop in the first place.

      Stupid DVDs. They’ll never catch on.

  2. brknwntr says:

    This is a great story, although I did get hung up on the detail of You and Mrs. Hatboy having a lazy Sunday wander about Helsinki in which you were lazilly pondering if you would take in a film.

    • stchucky says:

      Yeah. Fuckin’ 2002, man. Three years before Lionbridge and the blog, eight years before Wump and nine before Arse-tribble. Dinosaurs, or in this case Christopher Lee, roamed the Earth.

  3. aaronthepatriot says:

    Holy fucking shit man. You have my Mary Louise Parker beaten now, at least because I’d rather have met him than her!

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