“I see here you’re a fan of The Wind In The Willows. Is that — heh — because you identify with Toad?”
Evil adjusted his pince nez. To STUN.
“Let’s just say I have a penchant for...furry animals. Maybe you’ll meet them after the show. At dead of night.”
“I understand his plight.”
“Yes, it seems like an innocent children’s tale, but Grahame’s portrayal—”
“Listen,” said Evil, bustling forward in his chair, “fuck The Wind In The Willows, let’s talk about my book...”
“What about Heidi?”
“Fuck that, too.” Evil pushed the astonished presenter from his seat and grabbed the microphone, Robert Plant style.
“Is this on? Is this on?” TAP TAP TAP. “Listen up, everyone. I gotta tellya about my favourite book of all time, written by me. It’s called Why You Don’t Get Published and—”
Evil felt a hand grab for his ankle, and with a double stomp of his Simply Snark stilettos, he impaled the presenter’s wrists to the studio floor and cleared his throat to deliver his trademark jingle.*
* To the tune of "The Star Spangled Banner"
“I’m the evillest of men.
I can sure wield a pen.
When you read this great book
all your senses will orgasm —
how’s that for a snappy sales pitch?”
Grinning maniacally, Evil produced a paperback from his tunic and waved it at Camera One.
“It’s a steal for nine bucks. And there’s a sequel. So don’t waste your money on all the crap they normally review. Hey, and there’s mugs and T shirts and—”
As armed heavies thundered onto the set, TV screens across America cut to images of squirrels bounding through the forest, and a hastily arranged announcer announced, “...so stay tuned for a re-run of last week’s ratings-busting interview with John Grisham...”