"Should I be afraid to ask you the next question?" Jules says with uneasy laughter.
"I'll just come out with it," I tell her, offering a sympathetic wink. "I guess no one ever found out that my father was just a lonely stock boy at a grocery store who overdosed on rubber cement two months before I was born. The mystery of the 'milkman' sounded like a better story than the real one, so my mother never denied the rumors."
"Oh, you poor thing! How horrible, I can't imagine growing up without a father." Please stop, lady. You are on air.
"I'm fine, really, but thank you." Should I offer her a tissue now or wait until the end? "When I was old enough to make legal decisions, I broke away from the dairy industry, leaving behind the rumors and milk mustaches."
"Well, I guess we know why we haven't seen many milk ads lately," she says, laughing obnoxiously. Wow, she turns those emotions on and off like a light switch.Time to move over to soap operas.Jules begins to fan herself with a stack of blank papers despite the fact that it's fairly cool in here.Is it something I said?
"So, that's that I guess," I add in.
"How fabulous! So, Wesley, if up-and-coming models are seeking advice, what would you say to them?" she asks.
"All I can say is: Always consider your options, and be careful if there is a full glass of milk sitting at the edge of a table when hands are reaching out from every direction. The milk will continue to spill until life's lesson is understood. Also, it's inappropriate for a grown man to cry over spilled milk, so I don't recommend that either."
"Folks, do you see how funny this man is? No wonder he has had such an amazing career. Listen to you," she says, slapping the papers against my knee.
"You know, in the end, my story is a little sour, or maybe I was spoiled, but truth be told, I'm lactose intolerant now because too much of one thing is not good. So, it's time to put the milk back on the shelf and let someone else worry about the expiration date on their career. That's all the advice I have to give." I want to pat myself on the back for manhandling this interview.
She grins oddly at my remark, which is the only real bit of humor I've offered today.
"There you have it, folks, being in the spotlight isn't all it's chalked up to be, but if you do it well, what else can we ask, right? Plus, I'm sure we can all admit, milkhasdone Wesley Moon's body good," the interviewer says, signing off from the segment. She snarls at me and drops her papers onto her chair before storming off.Should I tell her about the lipstick on her teeth now?
The screen in front of the set was mirroring the interview, but now there's a picture of me, half-naked with a milk mustache.How appropriate.This sums me up—a fit body that belongs to a grown man who can't drink milk without spilling it all over his face.
