The Most Important Blogging About Dave Eggers Ever: Part Two of ?

By Guest Blogger Shannon "This is a Hostile Take Over of Your Blog" Simpson.(Pictured here with Dave Eggers.)


“Could you believe that bitch-baby in front of us?!” Vegaterri began, and I knew it was safe to inspect the note (once she gets started on bitch-babies there’s no stopping that one). The note was sealed with the letters DE in hot red wax. I unsheathed my gold-plated letter opener from my belt and opened the note. “Wait for me” the note said in what I can only guess was black Sharpee. It was signed “The Eggman.” I almost stopped in my tracks. Who was DE?

“And that fucking bitch-mother of that fucking bitch-baby has something coming as well…” Vegaterri continued. She hadn’t noticed the letter.

We met our friends in the lobby and decided to wait in line to meet Mr. Eggers. While I was trying to piece together who the note was from we joked about fanny packs and STD’s. Puddles of sweat formed in my ears (I never outwardly sweat –it makes one look nervous) as I carefully inspected the other lecture attendees for who could have been the culprit. An hour and a half and no leads later it was finally my time with Dave. There was so much I wanted to ask as I slowly stepped towards the table, like about irony and post-modernism and the native American parallels with those of Achak’s tribe and whether he preferred blue to red. I would never have the opportunity to ask a single question because as I approached the table Dave hissed “The Bacontina!”. I was stunned and looked around but he was talking only to me.

“Whuh?” I stammered confused.

“The Bacontina!” He hissed again louder. “The Soothsayer told me all about you. He said you would be like a ‘Brown Stick’ and Justin would be like a…” Dave stopped and looked back at the line and then behind me. He grabbed my hand and yanked it down so I had to kneel at the table.


“Where is Justin!” He asked frantically.

“Um, I um, ah, teaching a philosophy class, I think?” I answered trying to wrench my hand from his grasp to no avail. He gripped it tighter.

“Don’t lie to me I’m lactose intolerant” he spit menacingly. “Where is JUSTIN!”

I was hoping my friends back in line 4 feet away weren’t noticing Dave’s odd behavior. I looked back at Vegaterri and could see her pointing and could just make out the words “Fucking bitch-baby father” and knew I was safe.

“I swear Dave, I would never lie to a lactose intolerant, he’s really teaching a class.” With this he released my hand.

“Call me ‘The Eggman’” he insisted visibly upset. That’s when I pieced it together.

“You’re DE!” I said surprised. Things were getting very weird.

“Keep it down, kid.”

“Wait, what’s going on? How do you know about Justin?”

TO BE CONTINUED?...