60 Minutes: Special Edition

Barbara Walters: So, Mr. Payne--
Brandon Payne: Please, call me Sugarlump.
BW: Errr. . . how about Brandon?
BP: Sounds fair, Barbie-kins.
BW: Right. Anyway, I understand you were initially concerned about your personal attractiveness after the amputation.
BP: That's right Babs--
BW: Barbara--
BP: Whatever. Anyway, I was laboring under the misconception that people are fundamentally shallow and stupid. My faith in humanity has been bolstered by the discovery that people really don't care about leftie here (gesturing to stump).
BW: I see. And what has led you to this conclusion?
BP: Zum teufel! Men have been crawling out of the woodwork! (Andre Breton bursts in on the interview).
Andre Breton: Purple Flang Zoological Effluent Mardi Gras Zoink (singing) Don't sleep in the subway, darlin' . . . Eluent Umbrella Avoirdupois (AB is ushered out by security).
BW: I see what you mean! (visibly aroused) Tell me about the irons currently in the fire, won't you?
BP: Oh, I don't know. I made the impetuous and narcissistic mistake of giving some of them access to this blog . . .
BW: What blog?
BP: Never mind. Anyway, I'm not sure I should. What if it comes back to bite me on my nice little heinie?
BW: (Not impressed with heinie) Don't you think our audience has a right to know the truth about the personal life of one of America's foremost celebrities?
BP: (Sucker for flattery) Well, since you put it that way, alright. About whom would you like to know first? There are four interesting anecdotes.
BW: Who would you like to tell me about?
BP: Don't end sentences in prepositions, honey. Pick a number between one and five.
BW: Five?
BP: Five it is: Oh wait, I said four didn't I? Four, then (in no particular order): Micah.
BW: Oooh, nice name.
BP: I agree. And apologies in advance, mein herr. I know you might be reading this. But I take solace in the fact that I don't say anything in private I wouldn't say in public, and loudly at that. Micah is an organist in Denver whom I chatted with online months ago. Then, while I was in Kentucky I noticed that he had bookmarked me and decided to drop him a line. There's not much to do in Owensboro, you understand.
BW: Yes, the town isn't even in Rutger's.
BP: Quite so. Who would be caught living in such an armpit of a town? Moving on, Micah and I have been emailing back and forth in anticipation of a meeting in person. Unless he's just being polite, but he did bookmark me.
BW: So you haven't even met this person?
BP: Hey, don't judge!
BW: Well, I hardly think that counts as a lead.
BP: (getting up in a huff) Well, I just don't think I want to be interviewed if you're going to editorialize.
BW: (desperately) Wait! I mean, way to go after what you want! That's not at all obsessive thinking!
BP: (Buying it) Oh, well I suppose I could answer a few more questions . . .
BW: Well, despite the fact that you haven't met Micah (biting tongue), tell me about him.
BP: Well, (giggling childishly) he's an Organist (Walters rolls eyes). He sings, he's tall, he has a blog that reveals a tender heart, and I guess that's all I know. Still, I am interested. As you might know, Barbaloo, from reading my autobiography--(scowling) you did read it didn't you?
BW: You mean the prize-winning, "The Way To My Heart Is Through My Ears?"
BP: Ah, you did your homework. Yes, as I was saying, as you might have read, I have a soft spot for musicians, and expecially for singers. And, if his pics are to be believed (blushing slightly), he's handsome. And that's all I have to say on that topic, I guess.
BW: So, tell me about number two.
BP: Ron. A Ron is a very sexy man.
BW: That's the one you were flirting with shamelessly at the Lavender Film Festival? (BP is stunned at BW's journalistic acumen). Don't be surprised. We have been following you with hidden cameras for weeks.
BP: (Unnerved) Well, I had lunch with him Friday, and he seems worth getting to know. My instinct is that he's a bit of a player, though. I hope he doesn't expect me to give it up right away.
BW: Like you did with--
BP: (Interrupting) SO, moving right along . . .
BW: Yes. You said there were four anecdotes?
BP: Right. It's the weirdest thing! Today, out of the blue, two different gorgeous, literate, funny men IMed me out of the blue!
BW: You go boy!
BP: Please, Bubbles, that is so 2002.
BW: (pouting) You don't know me.
BP: Anyway, I chatted with them for about an hour apiece, and it didn't go further than that, but Merde! It does reassure one to chat on equal terms with such eligible men as Sean and Robert! (Young Robert, that is. Not the other one; I think that has cooled off.)
BW: Well, it sounds like there is no question about your leg hindering your social life.
BP: Oh, yeah, the leg. I suppose I should take this opportunity to mention that I had my left leg amputated a month ago. I don't think I mentioned it in conversation with Robert, and he might be reading this.
BW: Reading what?
BP: Never mind. So what else do you want to know about?
BW: Well, our cameras have revealed footage of Luke giving you the look of love.
BP: Right. Luke is a sweetheart, but my instinct is that we would make a messy couple. I think I might break him.
BW: And Ben?
BP: Yeah, that is odd for Ben to show up twice in one week isn't it? But he's young and still in his slutty phase, so no thanks.
BW: Which reminds me, Adrian Brody told me to ask why you haven't been returning his calls.
BP: Oh, right. (Offhandedly) I suppose I should give him a call . . .
BW: Yes you should! He's a work of art! WOOF! He could fill my prescription any day!
BP: Right. Anyway, I think its time for me to go. I have an opening at the Guggenheim to attend (gets up to leave).
BW: Well thank you for your time, Brandon. (Suggestively) Perhaps we could, talk in private sometime . . .
BP: Sorry Barbarella. I prefer sausage to taco. Later!

(Camera blackout)