Interviewer: They tell me you're the bravest man alive.

Bravest Man: Yes.

I: And that's why you recently changed your name to "Bravest Man"?

BM: That's right.

I: What was your name before the change? Was it something very un-brave, like Walter Furley or Todd Howard, for example?

BM: Actually, it was Rex Steele.

I: That sounds remarkably brave already. Why did you bother to change it?

BM: Eh.

I: You are a man of few words.

BM: (silence)

I: Comments?

BM: (long silence)

I: Um, okay. Moving on. When did you first realize that you were the bravest man alive?

BM: 13.

I: Can you be more specific?

BM: No.

I: Okay.

BM: (silence)

I: Why are you being so difficult?

BM: Don't make me come over there.

I: Moving on... what sort of brave things do you do?

BM: I would scale the highest mountains, risking certain death. I would battle alligators without any tools or assistance on live television. I would run naked through the streets of Harlem at night shouting racist obscenities.

I: That's... very specific of you.

BM: Thank you.

I: I didn't really mean that as a complement.

BM: (silence)

I: Would you be willing to demonstrate any of these acts of bravery for me?

BM: No.

I: Well, then, how do I know that you are as brave as you say you are?

BM: I'm brave enough not to cave in to peer pressure.

I: Good point.

BM: Why do you keep looking at me?

I: I'm interviewing you. Generally interviewers look at who they're interviewing. And this room is very drab. There's not much else to look at.

BM: Do you want me to whip it out?

I: Excuse me?

BM: I'll do it, you know. I'm not afraid to whip it out at a moment's notice.

I: (silence)

BM: I could beat you with it. I could just whip it out and smack you in the face with it. I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you bitch.

I: You're making me uncomfortable.

BM: I'm leaving.

I: Okay.

BM: (silence)

I: Weren't you leaving?

BM: Oh. Right. (leaves)

 this was a real interview, honest?