The Fiction of Owen Thomas

Henry's Interview Corner


A Beagle Dreams of Finally Getting Some Answers


H:   Twitter, welcome. How great it is to finally have you on Henry’s Interview Corner. Thanks for calling in.

T:   Sure. Sure.

H:   Let’s just jump right to it. How has such an adorable, albeit cartoonish, little blue bird so completely revolutionized social networking among humans? I mean, even limited to tweets of 140 characters, you seem to be everywhere at once, connecting everybody at once, simultaneously fueling the Arab Spring and sponsoring a national dialogue in this country about whether Charlie Sheen should be put to sleep. You must feel awfully good about yourself.

T:   Thanks, Hank. Yeah, I feel pretty f*ckin’ good. You know? I was the small one in the nest and I took a lotta sh*t for it. Now I’m bigger tha

H:   Uh… you kind of got cut off there. Bigger than… bigger than who? Tweety Bird? Elvis?

T:   I was gonna say Chris Christie ‘cause I eat pretty good now. But, hey, Elvis works too. Fat Vegas Elvis, not that scrawny Jailhouse Rock Elv

H:   Okay…Uh… Oh, right! You’re limited to 140 characters! I get it. I thought there was a problem with the phone. So do you want to finish that thought, or… 

T:   I’m good.

H:   Well let me ask you this. What inspired your mission to get people communicating?

T:   You don’t get it. You seen the email on this planet? I’m tryin’ to get people to shut the f*ck up. Diarrhea of the brain is clogging the ban

H:   Ban…ban…bandwidth! Diarrhea of the brain is clogging the bandwidth! Am I right?

T:   Smart for a beagle.

H:   So then are you saying that your mission is to actually decrease communication?

T:   My mission is to shut people the f*ck up. I send an email or a text asking about the weather and I’m gonna get back thirty f*ckin’ pages on

H:   On…

T:   On the history of the f*ckin’ sun! My mission is to siphon people off of the brain-diarrhea network and get ‘em on to Twitter where I can cu

H:   Cu…cultivate? Cultivate a more efficient use of language and…

T:   F*ck that. Where I can cut their rambling asses off after 140 characters.

H:   You seem awfully salty for a little blue bird credited with facilitating positive communication around the globe.

T:   One, I’m not f*ckin’ little any more. How many times I gotta tell you? You ever heard of a f*cking marketing logo? It’s not a f*ckin’ photog

H:   Photograph.

T:   Right. And B, my peeps are from Jersey so I could give a sh*t about salty language. I’m doing a f*ckin’ public service to clean out the ban

H:   Right.  The bandwidth.

T:   Was that a f*ckin’ tone I heard?

H:   No. No tone.

T:   ‘Cause I will f*ck you up, dog.

H:   Can I ask whether you are satisfied so far with your effort to…to…

T:   To shut people the f*ck up?

H:   Yes. That.

T:   I’m makin’ progress. Step 1: get ‘em addicted to the media. Step 2: control the media. Step 3: shut the f*ck up already.

H:   Do you have plans for the future?

T:   Hell yeah I got plans. Next upgrade will limit all the diarrhea brains to 130 characters. And the upgrade after that will lower the limit to

H:   To… to…120 characters?

T:   112.

H:   Including spaces?

T:   Yeah including the f*ckin’ spaces. And in two years I’ll have everybody down to probably 75 characters including sp

H:   And is that your goal?

T:   Nope.

H:   Oh. Well then what’s your goal?

T:   Nothin’ but the f*ckin’ spaces is my f*ckin’ goal. Duh.

H:   You mean like people…sending each other… tweets of… of silence?

T:   That’s what it means to shut … the f*ck… up. People talk about world peace. I’m f*ckin’ doing somethin’ about it. One f*ckin’ syllable at a

H:   It would seem you’re a very angry bird.

T:   Hey, f*ck you with the Angry Birds. Don’t you go lumpin’ me in with those knuckleheads. You see me with a born-to-lose tattoo on my wing?

H:   No.

T:   No you do not. You see me flyin’ suicide missions into stone walls lookin’ for some f*ckin’ no account helmet-wearin’ pigs?

H:   No.

T:   That’s right; no you do not. Why do you insult me with this video game cartoon bird bullshit? I know where you live you hairy-ass mother fuc

H:   Uh…

T:   There ain’t no angry-ass bird in this world that will save your worthless beagle mug when I come over there and kick in your f*ckin’ front d

H:   Ooookaaaayyyy…. I have to go now.

T:   Oh, you better run. I will pay you a serious f*ckin’ visit. I’ll bust a blue feather in your beagle ass. I’m the Twitter bird and I will fuc

Next Guest: President Barack Obama


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