Prologue
Milk … did my body good, but killed my mind.
Wesley Moon
I fidget in the director's chair, tugging on my jeans to make myself more comfortable in this position. I hate interviews, but according to my publicist, they're crucial for building a fan base. I don't want to grow my so-called-fanbase, but it's part of my job, so here I am.
Does this woman realize I can't move an inch without knocking my knees into hers? She's sitting less than three inches away with a microphone pointed at my nose. I don't think sitting this close is necessary for the camera to get the right shot, but if I ask any questions, I'll end up dragging this interview out even longer.
"We're live!" the director shouts.
The interviewer chick has long, wavy brunette hair, and a thick layer of makeup that looks like it was spackled onto her face. I can already tell how this interview is going to go by the way she's batting her eyelashes at me. Are we supposed to act like we're in love here? I don't get it. She pulls the microphone toward her chin and smiles at me, showcasing a mouth full of snow-white veneers, which are nicely accompanied by a smudge of red lipstick that spans the width of her two front teeth.Oops.I assume her makeup artist will be shown to the door at the end of this segment. More importantly, I have to avoid staring at the obvious faux pas throughout the duration of the interview.
"Good afternoon, everyone! I'm Jules Hope, and today I'm here with Wesley Moon, the ‘Get Milk' boy we all grew to love back when he was a famous child-star-model. But as you can see, Wesley is no longer a little boy. He is all grown up, and filled out in just the right places." The woman's eyes widen, and she scrunches her nose a couple of times. I wonder if she thinks she looks cute, or if she's suffering with a twitch. Whatever the case is, someone should at least tell her about the lipstick on her teeth. "Wesley," she addresses me and waves furiously at my face as if I just walked onto the set and sat down. "Hi! We would love to hear about your successful career in the milk industry, so could you say a few words to your fans about what you've been up to, or maybe give us a little backstory about how you got to where you are?"
I'm not sure what they're expecting to hear from me, but I'll be clear and give them a real insider's point of view since it isn't always as pretty as it seems from afar.
"Sure, thanks for having me, Jules."
"It's my pleasure," she responds, swatting her hand at me as if my gratitude is flattering.
"Well, where do I start? I guess it's like any other career, really."
"Where do you think your success came from, Wesley?" She asks.
"Uh, hmm, that's a tricky question. People tend to ask whether my career is successful due to a moment of fame, or if I desired the life of a model at a young age. Truthfully, I couldn't spell the word ‘milk' when I started working in the modeling industry. Therefore, I had no clue what was in store for my future. I more or less followed my mother around from audition to audition; got excited when she was excited and felt upset when she was upset. There wasn't a real science behind the growth of my career."
Jules forces a pout into her Botox-infused lips and cocks her head to the side. "Oh my, how sad for you," she says through a sigh.
“I would say it was sad, per se, but it wasn't until I was older that I realized how superficial my lifestyle felt." This woman's eyes are about to pop out of her head if I continue with my negative story, but I'm not about to sit here and spit out a bunch of lies either.
Jules giggles, probably to add humor to my statement. "Oh, there is nothing superficial about your incredible career, Wesley. You're living the dream," she says, beaming.
"So anyway," I continue, skipping down the path of destruction. "When a child grows up only knowing one part of life, there isn't always a great opportunity to find a different path."
"I'm not sure what you mean?" she says. I'm not sure she can move her mouth … I think her lips are stuck to the top of her teeth. She must have forgotten to apply lube. That makeup artist is definitely a goner.
"Well, my career began back in the nineties when I became a spokesmodel for a popular milk campaign. As you already mentioned, I was the 'Get Milk' kid."
“Yes, you were so adorable with your little milk mustache," she coos. I'd like to ask her if she was even alive back then, but I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.
“Yeah, the milk mustache; my claim-to-fame, those days were—ah …" I take a minute to collect my thoughts, knowing how I truly felt back then. There isn't a positive way to express my disdain for those years of my life. I scratch at the scruff of my chin and pull in a sharp breath before continuing.They asked for the truth.“You know, to be frank, starring in those promotions started out fun, but after the first few commercials, I lost interest. Being photographed with a milk mustache was embarrassing because people would make jokes about me being incapable of drinking from a glass ‘like a big boy.' Plus, it took hours to get the milk off my face after each shoot, and I smelled like craft glue for days following each job."
"Oh, goodness," Jules croons. "It's always fun to hear the behind-the-scenes stories. Ick! Glue on your face? Who would have known?" She scrunches her nose again and wiggles her head around like she has a bad taste in her mouth. "So, you didn't enjoy modeling back then?"
"I know everyone should be proud of their successes in life, whether big or small, but in all honesty, there was a dark shadow always lurking over my shoulder. People refer to the ‘shadow' as show business, but when I became more aware of what toll the industry was taking on my mother and me, I wanted out of the business."
"Is that when your picture started showing up on tabloids?" Jules asks, taking a more serious position by leaning her elbows into her thighs. Yes, I see your tits, lady. You can put them away now.
"Yeah, during a short break in promotions, the lack of attention led to the start of rumors. That's when the world found out my dad left us before I was born. Shortly after that, people began to call me, ‘the milkman's kid.' It's a joke to the world, but it was always my disappointment." Jules seems fascinated by the downfall of my childhood. Maybe she just assumed the world is made up of cupcakes and rainbows. She does seems like the type.
"Oh, so you're not the milkman's son?" she asks.Do I really have to repeat the story?
"I think the statement, ‘the milkman's son' is a saying of some sort. It's really just a nice way to say a woman has been impregnated by an unknown man," I correct her.
"I see," she says. There it is … a bead of sweat appears on her hairline and there are a few red splotches scattered along her neck. It's safe to say I've made her uncomfortable. This is why interviewers sometimes ask the interviewee questions before the cameras are rolling, but it seems we're new at this.
"Anyway, after the milkman rumors spread through the tabloids like wildfire, it left people wondering who the ‘milkman,' a.k.a. my father, truly was."
