pointless interview with bob, the pathological liar.

me: so, just for record-keeping, what's your name, followed by the date and time of interview.
bob: alex p. harding. february 30th @ 4:32am.
(awkward silence. ME sneezes)
me: right...okay...anyways...where we're you born?
bob: saint amelia's memorial hospital in sarasota, florida.
(ME glances at BOB's birth certificate, it says Portland General Hospital, Oregon. ME rolls eyes.)
me: (underbreath)this is going to be fun.
bob: what was that?
me: nothing. so...what do you think is your most notable accomplishment?
bob: being the first black prime minister of canada.
me: yeah. the canadians would do something like that. no--wait a minute, you're not black...in fact, you're white.
bob: liar.
me: ...right. is that your lovely wife sitting next to you?
bob: indeed it is.
(fade up, stage lights reveal an inflatable doll with a picture of martha stewart taped to the head sitting next to BOB)
me: oh-kaaaaay...(underbreath)psycho.
(BOB stares cluelessly at ME with a plastered grin on his face)
me: umm...what's your wife's name?
bob: martha stewart
me: good lord, you're a f*cking freak.
bob: could you say that a little louder son?
me: (loudly and distinctly) GOOD LORD, BOB, YOU ARE A F*CKING FREAK.
bob: who's bob?
me: get the hell out of here.
bob: who's bob?
me: take your ugly wife with you.
bob: you asshole. you don't talk about my wife like that. she's right here! you're an asshole. i don't associate with assholes.
(BOB picks up inflatable doll, smacks ME over the head with it, flips his chair over, and walks away calmly with the same clueless grin on his face)