Let's call him Melvin Downey and his show the Melvin Downey Drive Time Radio Extravaganza. It was 4:17 a.m. my time. Three hours later for Melvin, as he diligently ignored both my book and the questions his producer had asked me to submit — questions actually related to the book we were supposed to be discussing. Then, as the interview was stumbling towards an end, he asked, "So, who's an artist you really admire?"

I tried to think of an artist who'd murdered a radio host. Strangely, I couldn't come up with one. You'd think it would be a lot more common. I said, "Well, Melvin, if you're talking about an artist like a painter or sculptor, my answer would be Van Gogh. But if you're using "artist" in the broader sense, so musicians, photographers, actors, dancers, mimes, cake decorators and even some writers would qualify, then my answer would be ... it would still be Van Gogh. My new supernatural thriller, 'The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon' may be the only one of my books that doesn't mention him."

That might actually have been true, as well as a transparent attempt to finally cram my book into the interview. (And of course, into this column.)

"Van Goff?" Melvin sneered, using a British pronunciation and a tone simultaneously correcting me and dismissing Van Gogh. In some circles, Van Gogh has fallen victim to the Nobody Likes Him, He's too Popular, syndrome. "I suppose," Melvin added, "to the man in the street, Van Goff ranks right up there with Thomas Kinkade and the genius who painted those big-eyed children."

"R. Lancelot Krelboing," I said, as confidentially as if I weren't making it up. "But, Melvin, if the man in the street hangs a print of Starry Night next to his prized velveteen painting of dogs playing poker, what does that say about Van Gogh other than he's so extraordinary he's appreciated by almost everyone. Like Ice cream. Or the Beatles. Or sex. Nobody badmouths sex because it's too popular."

"Well ... " he began.

"I know," I interrupted. "That still leaves us with the question, what is the man in the street doing in the street, anyway? If, for example, he's reading my new supernatural thriller, 'The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon,' he'd be safer on the sidewalk. Or, better yet, at home, which is where most people looking for a gripping tale of terror with a rich vein of dark humor seem to read 'The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon.'"

The challenge was on. Ask me about space travel, the treaty of Brest-Litovsk, the mating habits of the Namibian wildebeest or anything else, and from this point on, I was working "The Great dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon" into the answer.

And that's when Melvin brought the interview to an abrupt close, thanking Bill Maher, who wasn't there, not Barry Maher, who was, and not mentioning either Bill's book or mine.

"Thank you, too, Melvin, on behalf of myself, the great dick, AND the dysfunctional demon. Oh, and by the way, the correct Dutch pronunciation isn't Van Goff, it's Vun Khokh," pronouncing it like I was clearing my throat. Pretentious isn't my native tongue. And I don't speak it fluently. But, in a pinch, I can make myself understood.

Check out Barry Maher's dark humor supernatural thriller, "The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon on Amazon. Sign up for his Substack at www.barrymaher.com.

To find out more about Barry Maher and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Peter Thomas at Unsplash