Heuristic Squelch: Good afternoon, Miss Apple, and I’d like to thank you for joining us today.
Fiona Apple: I’m nineteen.
HS: I’m sorry?
FA: I’m only nineteen and I’m already a big famous musician. Pretty impressive huh?
HS: Yes, well… Here at Berkeley we’ve got an eighteen-year-old freshman who’s already revolutionized that field of neuroscience. Can you say that?
HS: Mozart composed at age three.
FA: All right! I’m sorry! Go ahead.
HS: Thank you. Now, then. Just out of curiosity, how much do you weigh?
FA: About thirty-five pounds. But I had some celery this morning so I should be up to thirty-six by tomorrow.
HS: I see. And what sort of diet do you follow to maintain your sexy Ethiopian figure?
FA: Well, being vegan the only thing I can eat with a clear conscience is Styrofoam, but I’m also earth-wise, so I usually just end up gnawing on wood. Not exactly the most nutritious diet, but at least no poor defenseless animals are being personally violated for my sake.
HS: Well, good for you. Now, you used to be the sixth Spice Girl, correct?
FA: NO! It’s because I’ve been sued and abused by so many men. It’s like you can’t even love someone without getting hurt or something and… and everyone’s so fake, and… Well, actually, yeah. It’s pretty much the Spice Girls thing.
HS: That’s what I thought.
FA: I mean, it was so fucked up the way it happened. I was one of the originals. I stuck with them back when we had to dance on tables for money in Liverwurst.
HS: You mean Liverpool?
FA: Whatever. And as soon as they hit it big, wham! I’m out on my bony little ass. Now they’ve made a major motion picture and I’m stuck making kiddie porn music videos.
HS: I know how you feel. After I was fired by the Daily Cal for using too many words, the only work I could find was writing for those losers at the Squelch. Now I’m stuck here interviewing a whiny flavor-of-the-month Morisette clone who’ll be pumping gas before this goes to print.
FA: I feel your pain.
HS: Can I have a hug?
HS: Okay, So, what does the future hold for Fiona Apple?
FA: Well, after I win the Grammy for best new artist I plan to vanish into obscurity along with everyone else who has ever won the Grammy for best new artist. I figure within ten years or so I’ll have twelve kids by thirteen men, whom I’ll sell on the black market to support my smack habit. Then I’ll shave my head and become a militant lesbian, join N.O.W., and suicide-bomb Bowles Hall.
HS: That sounds charming. Good luck to you.
FA: Thank you. By the way, why aren’t you wearing any pants?
HS: Um, laundry day.
FA: And what’s…
HS: It’s a roll of Certs. Anyway, thank you very much for your time and best of luck in your career of making horrible, horrible music. Good day to you.
FA: Fuck off.