Just the Facts, Meg
Saturday, April 20 :: 8:39 p.m. :: link

:: "Please take a seat, Miss Ryan."

"Officer," I said, "I am not Meg Ryan. It's a case of mistaken identity, and not on my part. It's the delusion of that insane man you're holding. He entered my dwelling uninvited. He terrorized me with a mermaid flipper and herring aroma therapy. He assaulted me with sleeping bag pudding skins and coagulated dessert topping pomade. He has an obsession with an actress. I'm married with a wife, two cats,  and TiVo -- that's right, sir, TiVo, a boy toy. My name is Mike and I like to scratch. Look, I'll scratch here. Ooo, yeah, baby. See, I'm a guy!"

"You Hollywood types are so dramatic. We're ready for the line-up, ma'am."

I identified the intruder before all the participants took their stances. It wasn't difficult. He was wearing his name tag from our Snapple Bob Orientation, "HELLO, My Name Is Rich Cocoa."

My second day of police interrogation was mostly uneventful. I gave a deposition, autographed some publicity stills of Meg in "Armed and Dangerous," and styled my hair with an office paper cutter and fingernail trimmers.

A new day Photo © 2002 Donna Durrett. All rights reserved. Used with permission. Mr. Durrett makes his own gravy.

:: Photo: Thirty hours after a harrowing ordeal and rescue, I exit the county jail. My pulse rate has yet to slow to normal, but I am feeling less moist.

:: Current mood: wiser, like a man half my age and then some
:: Current music: "Scream" soundtrack


Copyright ©2002 Mike Durrett. All rights reserved. I want a book deal, dammit.