I come from Ry’leh, the city that always sleeps. It’s a nice town, but SO dead. And I mean literally dead. It’d be nice if it had some nightlife. I’d settle for any life at all, day or night. I was a reporter for the local news. But it was a lousy job. It had been an eon since anything exciting happened in that slimy dump. Just sleep, sleep, and more sleep. I swear, it was enough to drive a cephalopod like me to sanity. So I quit my muckraking and caught the first deep-sea sperm whale I could get.

With a one-way ticket, I traveled from my sunken city to the land of the rising sun, Japan. Their beer vending machines, monster movies, and anime with the kinky tentacle sex made me feel right at home. But I left after almost being made into a stir-fry twice. That scared me so bad I squirted myself with ink each time. Nightmares about a little oriental man in a white chef hat chasing me with his cleaver and bottle of soy sauce still haunt me. I left the island before I found myself attacked by a pack of hungry, chopstick-wielding Sumo wrestlers.

Next place I traveled to was New York, hitching a ride on a giant squid that owed me a favor. The Big Apple was impressive. It was almost as crowded as Tokyo, with people packed in like sardines. But replacing the horde of small, pleasant humans, were big, obnoxious ones. If you could sell rudeness, a single taxi driver could make you rich in a day. The final straw came after a long night of drinking like a fish with a pair of infatuated groupers. The next morning I found myself roused from a drunken stupor in a public aquarium. An employee there was trying to take my booze. I yanked that sticky-fingered monkey into the tank and put the squeeze on him. His floundering brought help, and I was bounced into the gutter. Nursing a hangover, I grabbed my bottle of Old Primordial 12-century-old Scotch and left for colder climes and warmer people.

I caught the red-eye flight in a shipment of walleye to Minneapolis. That Scotch and memories of be-tentacled females I once knew helped keep me warm. It was there I got my new, cushy job and sweet living arrangements. Being an ancient, sentient cephalopod has its advantages. Not only do I get senior citizen discounts, but also I have the power to cloud the minds of men. It was using my mentalism that a sweet, young human picked me up. Literally. She had a yen for suckers, and I was a sucker for females who like suckers…. Anyways, I made her think I was a soft, plushie octopus toy. She fell for me hook, line and sinker. I was taken to her home and made myself at home right away. But I felt I needed to repay her unknowing generosity. So now, late at night, I fire up one of her antiquated computers and go to work. The machine is slow and named after a fruit, but for my purposes it works perfectly. So, over a bowl of leftover chili and a mug of double-mocha cappuccino I type these words. Soon, I will be traveling the world, interviewing those interesting people who are NEVER seen by the public. I’m not talking about that Vanderbilt-wannabe Bill Gates or talentless teen idols like N’Sync. These are the celebrities that publishers would pay a pretty penny to hear an interview from…

The dead ones.