Withersin’s Damned Interview with:

 

KCT Webber

Well… I grew up in NY. Upstate, with the cows. I did the better part of a decade with the US Army, where I visited more countries that I can count on my fingers. Then I moved to TN. Then I moved to PR. Then I moved back to TN. Then I moved to New Zealand, where I am now. I moved here for a woman. Believe that? Oh, and I write occasionally. There’s that too. I suppose that should be mentioned.

 

Your website: www.facebook.com/kenneth.crist.weaver

 

How can you be contacted? www.facebook.com/kenneth.crist.weaver

 

In your own words, define Withersin:

Greasy wisps of smoky fingers caressing the inside of my skull, sliding down the back of my brain, wrapping around my spinal cord, making me shiver.

 

If you were a sideshow act, what would you be?

The guy that bites the heads off of chickens. Or bats. Snakes. Whatever.

 

What is your greatest non-literary influence?

My team leader at 1st Ranger Battalion, US Army. He would wake us all up screaming songs about vaginas and donkeys, if that tells you anything.

 

Describe your most irrational fear.

I have cringing thoughts about getting objects slammed into my eyes quite often. I see corners of tables, chairs, counters, doorknobs, pencils, pens, cabinet doors… all manner of things as imminent threats to my eyeballs. And yet, I’m willing to put contacts in every day. But you did say irrational, yes?

 

How about your most guilty pleasure?

I don’t feel guilty about any of my admittedly freaky pleasures. I did just quit smoking though. Not because I felt guilty, just because of how much money I was budgeting for it. I could use that for something else. Like protective goggles.

 

Name the most disturbing nursery rhyme/fairy tale you can recall.

Hansel and Gretel. Eating children? Roasting old ladies? Yeah… that’s exquisitely fucked up right there. Awesome.

 

Do you eat meat?

Nearly raw. And a whole lot of it. (I also daydream about eating vegetarians.)

 

What were the skies like when you were young?

I liked them best when it was cold and dark outside, and clear, except for those long, wispy cirrus clouds that crossed, but didn’t really obscure, the full moon. That’s my favorite kind of sky even now.

 

Name your favorite garden tool.

Axe. Oh, that’s not a garden tool? Well… it’s still my favorite. I used to pretend that I was some bad-ass warrior with a battle-axe when I was a little kid. My grandmother would always tell me not to play with the thing, but I didn’t listen. One day I hit myself in the head with it—I broke skin--but even that didn’t stop me from playing with the thing.

 

Name your least favorite color, first job and worst job.

Anything pastel is my least favorite color. I hate them all. Hate them, I say! If you count mowing lawns, I got my first job at 10—running around town offering my services to old ladies. I was a little entrepreneur. My first real job, though, was a maintenance man (boy. I was 14) at a ranch. I fixed anything that needed to be fixed. My worst job was working for Coca Cola Corp. It sucked. Badly.

 

Favorite:  Author, Movie, Music Group, Song, and Quote.

There are too many authors out there for me to pick a favorite. I love… a lot of them. Same with all the other questions too, but I’ll try. Movie… The Princess Bride, probably. I’m a nerd like that. I don’t really watch much in the way of movies though. I spend more time with the History Channel. Music… If I had to pick one, I’d say Tool. Or anything by Keenan, Really. Quote… Again, if I had to pick one, it would be “If you try to be all things to all people, you’ll be nothing to anyone.”

 

If you were a loaf of bread what kind would you be?

There’s this stuff in Eastern Europe (Bosnia, particularly) that I had when I was there. I can’t remember what it was called. It had sausage and cheese baked in it though. God damn, that shit was awesome. And since I’m awesome, I have to say I’d be that one.

 

Weirdest news you have read in your local newspaper:

Arthur Shawcross (Genesee River serial killer) was from the town where I grew up, and killed two victims there, so that made for some pretty freaky news. He was arrested in 1990, so that made the news as well.

 

If you have a message to the people of Earth, tell us what it is:

You’re not as smart as you think you are.

 

And finally, a question you can take anyway you like:  But Why?

Because he was in my shed and I had a hacksaw. No… I’m not going to eat it; you’re welcome to it.

 

Here’s a photo titled, “INEDIBLE NOT INTENDED FOR HUMAN FOOD” 

You have 112 words.  Go.

The creatures in the back of the truck fidgeted, but there was a stiffness to their restless movements. They all had the same image filling their minds. No one wanted to discuss it, but they all knew that humans would eat anything--even if it was marked as dangerous. But they had no choice. This was their best bet. Not a good bet, but the best one. There were humans everywhere—the filthy little creatures, with their filthy little sucking mouths. If the humans decided to converge on them, decided to eat the contents of the truck, the creatures wouldn’t stand a chance. They would never make it back home to Roswell.