The Interview
by Marsh Cassady
So my editor
tells me that we’re going to start a
“Man in the Street” column. And guess
who he picks to do it?
It’s
Brooklyn, in late November. Who in his right mind
is going to be out in this weather!
So I’m
standing on the corner not even knowing if I
still have feet, my nose an ice cube, and I see
this guy walking toward me. He’s so bundled
up I can’t tell much about him. Hood, scarf,
gloves. Well, this is it or nothing, I think.
“Hi,
I’m a reporter,” I say and tell him
about the interviews “And since you’re
the only man I see–“
“You want
to talk to me?”
“What’s
your name?
“Moon
Planetoid.”
“Moon
Planetoid!”
“My
friends call me Sunny.”
“Sunny?”
I think I’m having a bad dream.
“Well,
except for my mom. She calls me flashlight.”
You’re
kidding me!
“No.”
“Why
would she do that?”
“Because
I’m so bright.”
“Where
you from, Moon. May I call you Moon?”
“It’s
my name, isn’t it? And I’m from
Brooklyn.”
“Here,
you mean? Brooklyn, New York.”
“Where
else you gonna find a Brooklyn!”
“You’re
a smart ass, huh?”
He smirks.
“Not just my ass. All of me’s smart. I
got enough smarts in my little toe–”
“So what do you do?”
“I live
in Brooklyn.”
“I’m
losing my patience. “What do you do
in Brooklyn?
“Hang out
at Prospect Park; go to LIU, Zeckendorf Campus.”
“You’re
a student?”
“Pretty
much what I said, isn’t it.”
“What are
you studying?”
“Girls,
mostly.”
“Your
major.”
“Higher
learning.”
“You
can’t major in higher learning!”
“No, but
I can get pretty high at Zeckendorf.”
“What?
You mean drugs?”
“You
crazy, man! I’m not a druggie.”
“Then
what’s this bit about getting high?”
“Zecky’s
main building is tall. I try to take my classes
at the top.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I asked sarcastically. “And why do you do
that?”
“Obvious,
man. Mom always said I needed a higher education!”
“Like
your higher learning.”
“Of
course,”
“A real
card, are you?”
“Not a
card. A Planetoid.”
“Is that
really your name?”
“Is that
really your business?”
“Okay,
then, how old are you?”
“Sixty-three.”
“You said
you’re in college.”
“Wandering
around in the solar system circling all those
galaxies took a lot of years!”
“You
think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?”
“Nope.”
“No?”
“I
don’t think I am. I know I am.”
By now my
teeth sounded like Mexican castanets. I slipped
my notebook into my pocket and abruptly took off
down the street.
“Hey!”
I turned back.
“Yeah, what?”
“When’s
this gonna be in the paper? I want to tell Mom.”
I didn’t
bother to answer.
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