Hello my name is Rudi. I’m glad to meet you, thank you for coming. How rude of me, please have a seat. No, not there, that’s mother’s chair. May I offer you a glass of Mateus? No? Are you sure? Very well, I only wish I had your willpower, I can’t resist the dark nectar’s spell. What’s that? Well, that’s a very good question, a fine question. I guess when I try to think about what first got me interested in the “idea business”, this whole wacky creative game, I can’t help but think of my childhood in the Old Country.

I grew up in a charming neighbourhood affectionately referred to as “Little Beirut”, not so much because of the endless violence but because of a very pretty and exotic flowering bush planted in front of the bombed out church.

Now as a youth, I was too poor to go to school. In fact out of my seven brothers and sisters, only the youngest, our sister Anita attended classes. Oh, how happy it made Papa to see her prepare for her first day. How anxious and giddy was she as she got into that cow-drawn carriage and rolled away down Mud Street towards the half-razed School House. So many hopes and dreams, so many possibilities as a new chapter opened for our family. Then she came back home with no shoes.

It appeared that after classes, Anita chose to take advantage of a short break in the constant thunderstorms that besieged our region and walk home – only to be assailed by a gang of local marauders. Not owning anything else of value, they relieved her of her clogs. Now, this was a very serious problem indeed because of coarse not only did she not have another pair but there was no money in the family coffer to buy any. We may have been poor but we were also very proud and no kin of ours could be seen going to school with no shoes. Now, uncle Zoltar was a shoe maker but as luck would have it, the syphilis had just taken his sight. So, it was up to us to retrieve her shoes from those foul evildoers. As old and peculiar family traditions would have it, it is the duty of the middle child to solve any problems concerning footwear. Unfortunately, that responsibility fell to me. I was reluctant to accept such a task for two reasons; Firstly, I was a frail and sickly boy, and secondly, I never cared much for Anita. Why lie? You can’t choose your family, am I right? But our honour was at stake, and so I consented.

I wish I could tell you that I slyly outwitted those pilfering bandits. That I heroically recaptured my little sister’s shoes making it possible for her to improve our lot by getting an education. But, instead I snuck into a movie, then smeared a little mud on my face and came back to the family shack with a fantastic story of battle. I told a tale of how after I had beaten six of the meanest and foulest of the bandits and was about to flog the gang leader with his own bullwhip, suddenly a torch-bearing henchman set the shoes on fire and threw them over Dead Cat’s Cliff. Then a mysterious mist surrounded the plunderers and once it lifted, they were gone, (something from the matinee I had seen).

And so from that day forward I realized that lies are a very important asset in life’s toolbox. In fact I have lied my way into every position that I have ever had. Deception has taken me from my humble beginnings back in the Old Country to positions of great power and privilege and countless pleasures and riches.. Oh, what? No, no don’t worry about Anita she is fine. Just fine, a little trooper that one. She had a baby at 14 and married the most probable father and now I’m pretty sure lives in Tucson. She’s a magician’s assistant. Good work if you can get it.

Oh my, look at the time, well I have to get to the Moose Lodge, so if you’ll be so kind to get the hell out of my study…okay then, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Ciao.