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An interview with Oleg Farrininyo Kubelstein, the “world’s most eccentric artist” — April 30, 2045:

I: Oleg–may I call you Oleg?

O: No.

I: Uh, I want to thank you for being here.

O: Then you have accomplished what you set out to do, no? Pat yourself on the back. Whisper yourself a sweet nothing inside your head. Besides, I am always here… [gazes at the wall after abruptly swiveling his body 90 degrees and crossing his legs]

I: Would you be so kind as to–

O: I WOULD NOT!

I: Right. Right. What are you working on these days?

O: The same thing we are all working on: Trying to live with this ridiculous grey-matter-mush we’ve inherited. It’s like owning a deaf dog who likes to piss on your shoes…

I: Tel me more.

O: [curls upper lip]

I: Please?

O: You expect me to do the work and explain it. Put your ear against the wall–you’ll get more from it than me. [swivels 180 degrees and begins whistling what vaguely sounds like Prokofiev’s “Dance of the Knights”]

I: Is that the tune used in the commercial you appeared in for Riot Vodka?

O: With no permissions, they stole my image. I cannot speak of it. Legal proceedings are proceeding or ensuing or thus and such. Where are the persimmons?

I: What?

O: One of my stipulations in the contract we signed. Fresh persimmons would be served at the interview. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get fresh persimmons?

I: Hmm… Those were for you? I ‘m sorry. I ate them.

O: [With lightning like movements, Oleg shoves his fist down the interviewer’s throat, pulls the undigested persimmons out of the interviewwer’s stomach, and crams them into his own mouth. The crowd gasps. On stage, the interviewer flickers and begins to fade. A hologram! Applause erupts. Oleg stands, spits out the persimmons, and bows with a one-handed flourish. The curtain closes.]

 

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