The "reporter" was jumpy. They all were. That didn't surprise Rick, he had too much experience dealing with these types of people. Unfortunately, his strategy of ignoring them wouldn't work in this case, when they had him cornered in his own apartment.
"What is your name?"
Rick didn't respond.
"Sir, what is your name?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you the first time. My name's Philip Hornbuckle." Rick lied. There was no way in hell these people were going to get any real information out of him.
"Age?"
"60."
"Job?"
"Professional Hubcap Waxer."
"And where do you work?"
"Olive Garden." Rick knew these people didn't pay attention to what he was saying. They're more like copy machines than people. All they did was read a script and write down responses. This back and forth went on for a while, Rick continuing to give nonsensical answers the whole time. Man, Hornbuckle's going to be very confused when he reads about himself. Rick thought to himself. After what seemed like an eternity, the reporter finally left.
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