Once upon a time, last Saturday, a fictional character that I created appeared suddenly in my bedroom. This was ironic as I had off-handedly mumbled moments before his appearance that “I probably wouldn’t want to meet him in person.”Grant is a completely evil and horrifying creature. An anthropomorphic dog with creepy black eyes and a constant aura of menace. He was born out of my love of horror and my desire to have a twisted conduit for my most perverted ideas within in the furry fandom to which I happily belong. I designed Grant to be psychopathic and self-centered. He does terrible things in my erotic stories and is precisely the kind of character no one in their right mind would tolerate being near were he to actually exist. For all of these reasons I was terrified. I don’t know how he could exist but he did. He stared at me expectantly as I stammered and tumbled into my dresser. And then Grant, the evil, nigh-omnipotent dog, sat on my bed and produced a few bottles of wine. He wanted to have a conversation and when my panic at length subsided I relented.

I was thankful that my roommates were out of town as Grant was making no effort to hide his presence. He strutted about my apartment as I found wine glasses and poured us each a glass. He was at first very dodgy in conversation. I gathered that he simply wanted to start drinking so I played along and acted as a host for the character whom I had apparently imagined into being. At a loss regarding what I ought to do to entertain Grant I invited him to watch cartoons. He became excited at this prospect and we took to my room to hack into the bottle of merlot while watching ponies. The wine readily took hold. I am a notorious heavyweight, but I drank faster than I realized due to the impossible situation in which I found myself. Grant drank preposterously quickly, but was inebriating slower than myself. After forty-five minutes we were both soundly soused.

-The following is an account of our strange meeting. My name has been redacted for the sake of privacy and is hereafter replaced with the pseudonym [Tim Dinkle]-

“I am so proud that you appreciate Charles Shaw.” I said, leaning forward in my desk chair. Charles Shaw, or ‘Two-buck Chuck,’ is a very cheap brand of wine distributed by a local grocery store.

“I, listen, I love Charles Shaw.” Grant said, looking me in the eyes solemnly “He is the KING of wines.”

“I can’t argue with that. I’m just surprised you brought Two-buck Chuck. Couldn’t you, like, get any kind of wine you could ever want?” I asked.

“Why would I want anything else?!” He asked loudly. “Charles is all I need. Sweet Charles.” He hugs the small bottle.

“Haha, sure……. ‘wine’ not.” I said.

“Ohhhhh! I get it. What great writing.” He said, slapping my knee.

“Thank you for not killing me or turning me into a sentient butt plug or something. I totally thought you were just going to rape the shit out of me when you showed up.” I said.

“Hahahahaha. No problem. Wouldn’t that be kind of incestuous?” He responded with an eyebrow quirk.

“I am your dad.” I said jokingly.

“Don’t give me ideas…” He said with a wide grin. 

“Anyway, so Grant, I have these questions from your fans. Can I, like, ask you these questions?” I said, leaning extremely close to him.

“Let’s do it.” He said. He stood and leaned over my chair to see the computer screen. Admittedly I got hot and bothered at the feel of his fuzzy abs, but put the nasty thoughts out of my head for the sake of the interview.

“Ok. Ok. Pbbbbbbt, this mosesj wants to know ‘What is your favorite food? And also ‘What is your favorite wish to grant, Grant?’”

Grant leaned forward heavily, nearly knocking us both over. I sat dumbly beneath his weight waiting for him to notice what he was unwittingly doing.

“My favorite food is, um, people.” He said, finally standing straight before sitting on my bed across from me.

“Shut up you don’t eat people.” I said.

“OK, I have never eaten somebody yet. My favorite food is probably donuts.” He said while wriggling his clawed index finger.

“What’s ‘this?’” I asked mimicking his finger motion.

“Stick it in the hole.” He said with a dirty grin.

“Oh you dirty.” I said with a chuckle. “And your favorite wish?” 

“I like when people make vengeful wishes at others because it just feels good to do the right thing and help them out.” He said.

“Hm, really? I don’t think you have ever done the right thing. I have never written you doing a single good action.” I said. 

“Oh come on.” He said disbelievingly, “What about all those people who I let keep their free will?” He said.

“Ohhh OK. I’m sorry. It was nice of you to trap those two guys in seal suits, permanently, but leave them their free will.” I said. Grant grinned jaggedly at the recounting of one of his more disgusting deeds.

“I still visit them sometimes. They flop around like horny little sausages.” He said.

“Yeah-ok, next! Clawbert and Ruel want to know ‘Is there anything that you wish for’?” I relayed.

“Heyyyy Ruel is my buddy.” He slurred. “Anything I wish for? I can have anything I want, like, instantly. What would I want?” He asked. 

“Oh yeah I guess that’s true.” I said. Grant seemed to become distracted at the previous question. I watched him as astutely as possible with my shifting vision and could have sworn that he was conflicted.

“Do you. Hmm. Do you wish you were normal?” I tried. Grant was shocked for a split instant before a sardonic grin crawled along his jowls. In my drunkenness I had somehow caught the fleeting emotion.

“Oh my god you totally do. Do you wish that you never became what you are now?” I asked.

“Lissen. It might be interesting to not be omnipotent for a while. I don’t know anything about normal, but I like to be a bottom too you know. It’s hard to be masochistic when you can make your dominator cease to exist with a thought.” He said.

“A classic response. Sure, I’ll buy it.” I said with a wink. He scowled in response. I was learning all kinds of things about my character that night.

“Ok, I have a question for you.” He said. He stood quickly and stomped toward my seat. He planted his hands on my chair and pressed his body close to mine. His wine breath reeked. “Have you ever masturbated to me? Also, what inspired you to create me?” He asked. 

“Oh no. No no no! This isn’t ‘A Drunk Conversation With [Tim Dinkle]’ You don’t get to ask me questions.” I said.

“Oh really?” He said. The dog got frisky and started to grind against my chest. “Come on, you totally jerk it to my hot bod right?” Suddenly Grant was on the other side of the room humping thin air. “Wh-what the hell?”

I smirked at the confounded dog as he stomped toward me again and attempted to mount my chair. Then he instantly found himself in the kitchen, I heard him shout in frustration. He stomped into my room with a scowl. 

“How are you doing that?” He asked. Looking around in confusion.

“What?” I asked coyly.

“How are you controlling me? That’s impossible.” He said.

“So, I just figured this out right now. You’re omnipotent, but I’m the author.” I said while sipping my wine. “By the logic of the story universe you are omnipotent but because I’m writing your actions, as well as mine right now, you are like a puppet. We’re not asking me questions so why don’t you just drink your Charles Shaw and follow the narrative?” Grant, feeling rambunctious, attempted to teleport to my side, but found himself on my bed with his wine glass in hand. His black eyes stare angrily.

“Fuck you.” He said.

“lol. I’m going to have to sweep these fourth-wall shards off the floor later, but it was worth it.” I replied “Next up… Pattyjeo149 asks ‘Grant, have you ever granted a question without screwing the wisher over’?”

“Um yes.” Grant said before chugging a good deal of his Charles Shaw “Uhhh one time I helped a guy get with the girl he had a crush on.”

“Oh wow no way. That’s pretty sweet. What did you do?” I said.

“I fused them into a dragon beast with two heads so that they could be together foreverrrr” He said in a sing-songy  voice.

“How kind of you!” I said chugging my wine as well. “Wooo G, I am hitting Drunk Level 70 right now. What you at?” Sitting still was difficult. I could barely write the events and became increasingly distracted by my online friends’ incessant IM’ing.

“I’m right behind you!” He said, we clinked our glasses together.

“I have totally gotten off to you before by the way. You’re like the awful, sexy devil on my shoulder.” I said.

“I knew it. Gaaayyyy.” He said, sidling closer to me.

“Ok, last one here Batpaw, shit, I still have to write his story. Batpaw wants to know what your hobbies are. AKA what do you do for fun?” I said.

“I really like animals. Sometimes I watch birds and stuff just living their lives. It’s pretty cool because they can’t see me if I don’t want them to. I also steal food all the time, like donuts. Flying is awesome. Being omnipotent is awesome but sometimes I have to buckle down and ruin some lives. Know what I mean?” He explained.

“Not really. Your backstory is pretty murky. Like, it crawled from some hackneyed Lovecraftian stew. What is the deal with Kaashpet, that diety you work for?” I asked. 

“Don’t you know that already [Tim Dinkle]?” He said, glaring flatly at me.

“Oh because I’m the author? I mean I could probably decide something, but I thought it would be cooler for the reader to hear this from the dog’s mouth, so to sp--*burrp* speak.” I said. “Ew, wine burp.”

“Whatever.” He said, still miffed that anyone has more power than he himself does. “Kaashpet is a consumer. She eats all. But, like a piece of fruit, her food can be ripened to perfection. If she were to consume the consciousness of Earth’s humans now they would taste sour and under ripened.”

“So why don’t you cause a hurricane or something and ruin a ton of lives at a time?” I asked

“Subtlety.” Grant said with a smile so twisted it irked even myself. “By breaking those desperate, wishing, humans I condemn them to torment, but also sow seeds of confusion and unrest among the populace. No human will be able to detect me if I don’t want them to. People, police, governments will become increasingly paranoid as people disappear or reappear in impossible and monstrous forms.” Grant paused to sip his Charles Shaw. It dripped from his canines giving an impression disturbingly akin to dripping blood. “You can extrapolate from there. But by the time anyone comes close to discovering the clues I’ve left for them Kaashpet will draw near and swallow you whole. Christ she’s so incredible. Your souls will be torn wailing and withering from your bodies as she eats her fill.”

“Well. Not me.” I said. Grant bares his fangs and gnashes his claws at me at the taunt. “Because I’m the author. But shit that will suck for the characters when that happens.”

“I hate you so much. Urrrgh, this story really confusing.” Grant said. He calmed and collapsed on my bed.

“Well, probably because we’re both trashed.” I said.

 “Hahaha.” Grant laughs. “Hey, what the hell is that noise?” He asked of the discordant melodies which have recently been traveling into my bedroom.

“Oh, that’s my terrible neighbor. This douchenozzle practices with his crappy band all the time. Especially Sunday nights when I have work the next day. I just wish he would go away or something.” I said. Simultaneously the music stopped and Grant slowly grinned. When I realized the implication I looked with heavily-lidded eyes across the alleyway into my neighbor’s room. Where he and his terrible band-mates had been a vibrant red mist settles onto the floor and walls. I gagged on my Two-buck Chuck and turned away from the window.

“Ohhh God, did you kill my neighbors?” I asked.

“Yes, those guys sucked, plus you wished for it.” He said, spilling wine onto the floor.

“You are so drunk.” I said. Not wanting to look at the gruesome scene Grant had created I drew my curtains. “Alright, look I’m fading fast here. Let’s wrap this up OK? I need to get some bagels going on and sober up. Do you have any final comments for your thousands, or like, dozens of fans?” 

Grant straightened up and stood. He placed a hand on my shoulder and made a triumphant pose.

“Well [Tim Dinkle], I am really not as evil as you make me out to be.” He said.

“Uhhhhmm. Are you shitting me? You just made my awful neighbors into a fine bloody mist for no reason.” I said incredulously.

“I’m just another furry trying to get by.” He said, ignoring me entirely. “I hope that I can continue to grant wishes and bring joy to people’s lives. Thank you fans for reading my stories. I would totally bone every one of you if I actually existed in a meta sense.”

“Swoon.” I said flatly, while leaning against his waist. “Well Grant thank you for visiting me. I was going to write a dirty story where you visited me and did something crazy to me, but I actually like this interview idea way more.” I flung my arms around his waist and dug my face in his fur, accidentally smearing red wine residue. Obligingly he began to pat my back and lean into my hug.

“H-hey, I didn’t want to do any of that.” He said.

“Mmmm, yes you do.” I moaned as he suddenly forgot what he was saying and decided to return the hug.

“Goddamnit.” He growled.