Somehow, without the knowledge of a future Pete, I managed to obtain this brief interview with myself at the age of 75. Actually, Pete might know about it, but since he's busy living his mid-21st century life, he probably just didn't get around to letting us in the present in on the discovery.

The interviewer isn't mentioned by name, so I've designated him "I" for simplicity's sake. Here goes.

--

I: So, Dave, how's life?

Dave: Man, I'm tired. Being old is an ass-kicker, and I reckon I've still got another seventy-five years or so before I call it a day. Damn.

I: Seventy-five? I know life extension's come a long way, but that's still pretty impressive. Do you foresee the current generation living to 200 or longer?

Dave: This has nothing to do with life extension, and I stopped paying attention to what's going on with younger folks after some little shit sent me a bomb back in '36. He apparently wasn't too happy that I wasn't writing very much, so he sent me a Hickory Farms Christmas box filled with black powder, nails, and broken glass.

I: You're kidding. How did you survive that?

Dave: Because the kid forgot to put a fuse in with the explosives.

I: Wow. I guess having your life threatened by your audience might potentially make you turn your back on them.

Dave: No, it was the kid's stupidity. I'm ashamed that this kid, who enclosed a note saying how much he liked my first novel, forgot something as basic as the fucking fuse. Even when I was young- in my twenties, say- I didn't hold out a lot of hope for folks younger than myself. After that shitty bomb, I just gave up on them completely, just like I gave up on politics, coffee shops, and every post-mp3/DVD audio format.

I: So what are you doing these days? Still writing?

Dave: Still dabbling is more like it. I still read a lot. Drink beer. Cruise around in the Judge or the six-five. I collect turntables too.

I: Turntables?

Dave: Come on, you know what a turntable is. I don't collect them for any reason other than to cannibalize them for parts, though. The only things I collect, so to speak, are spent shell casings, empty beer cans, and the occasional royalty check from my writing.

I: Wait, shell casings? I know you still drink beer-

Dave: Yeah, those liver filters are the best things that ever happened to me. Well, and the cancer pseudo-vaccine.

I: But what about the shell casings? Do you own a gun?

Dave: I'm not answering that, for obvious legal reasons. But yeah, I've got about 100,000 spent shell casings. 7.62x39. I'm hoping to find someone who will eventually fuse them all together to build my coffin, and maybe my headstone as well. Want a beer?

I: No thanks.

Dave: Your loss, dude.

I: I'm curious as to your opinion of-

Dave: Come on, dude, I'm not that interested in offering my opinion to strangers. You should know that, if you've followed my life and career at all.

I: All right. That sounds kind of cynical, though.

Dave: Maybe it is. Or maybe you could just call me Johannes de Silentio. Or just more interested in takin' it easy and sitting on the porch.

I: So you're still an advocate of idleness?

Dave: Did you expect me to have an epiphany and start busting my ass?

I: No, but you have a family, and-

Dave: Christ on a crutch, who the hell chose you to do this interview? Of course I've got a family, but I'm seventy-fucking-five years old, and the kids have been taking care of themselves for years. Ask me a decent question, please.

I: Sorry. Okay. Are you happy?

Dave: I reckon I am. I don't have to do much except kick back, drink beer, read, and think a lot, so I've pretty much achieved my life's goals.

I: Those don't seem like very... complex goals.

Dave: I dare you to quit your job and fuck off for the rest of your life. I bet you couldn't handle it. I've got a question for you, son.

I: Um, okay.

Dave: Why is asking old fucks like me questions any more complex or fulfilling than trying to answer questions about your own life? Don't get me wrong, I like a good interview or novel or essay as much as the next guy, if not more, but really, wouldn't you rather take some time and engage in a little introspection?

I: Well, yes, but-

Dave: But you're too busy trying to build a career and leave a legacy. Fuck it, dude. I don't feel like giving a lecture right now.

I: Okay.

Dave: You ever seen a GTO?

I: What's that?

Dave: I knew that's what you'd say. You into cars?

I: Uh, not really.

Dave: Me neither, but the 1970 GTO Judge is the finest car ever made. Before you ask, yes, it runs on gasoline, not hydrogen.

I: I thought they outlawed those.

Dave: Maybe where you're from, but not in Texas. They've still got the old twentieth-century oil economy mindset. Anyway, fuck this interview. You wanna go cruise?

I: Sure. Can I bring the recorder along?

Dave: Why not? Let me get my cigarettes and a CD. Yes, I still have a CD player. I'm seventy-fuckin'-five, and I'm not gonna shell out for anything newer, especially since nobody could install a new system in the Judge without fuckin' it up. Come on, dude, let's hit it.

--

Looks like being old will kick ass.