We witches were lucky enough to get an interview with Benjamin Grant, the much sought-after main character from Rebecca Demarest’s latest novel, Undeliverable. Following is the transcript.
DLB: What is your name?
BG: Benjamin Grant
DLB: Do you have a nickname?
BG: Most people just call me Ben, but in high school they called me Grant because there were a lot of Benjamins around. Of course, in grade school, there was the occasional ‘bookworm,’ though I thankfully avoided the ‘four-eyes’ nomenclature that normally accompanies that. My most recent nickname though is with the kids in the neighborhood. They call me Mr. Handy because I can fix almost any broken toy they bring me.
DLB: That’s sweet. We break everything we get our hands on, so we could use a Mr. Handy at DLB Headquarters. Where were you born?
BG: Up-state New York, a little city called Binghamton. I grew up there, spent most of my life there, until I went to college down south, met my wife, and settled in Savannah, GA.
DLB: Where do you live now?
BG: Atlanta, GA. This is actually only the fifth place I’ve lived in my life, including the two apartments in college.
DLB: Do you have a best friend in Atlanta?
BG: Up until a couple years ago, I would have said my ex-wife Jeannie. We were inseparable, and had a lot of fun running her family’s antique shop.
DLB: And now?
BG: Now…well, I don’t have much time for socializing anymore.
Nothing works out my anger as well as going through the new tips and messages from the missing children’s line.
DLB: Ok, nothing wrong with that. We DLB-ers reserve our socializing to Full Moon dances, and you know how risqué those can be. That’s enough socializing for one whole month. A lot of laughing, though. What makes you laugh, Ben?
BG: I’m usually the guy who’s in the corner quietly amused, rather than outright laughing, but some of the antics of the crew at my new job are highly entertaining. I mean, where else do you get random reptile chases, taxidermic armadillos, and preposterously angry ex-husbands with uniquely foul language? The post office draws some odd ducks to begin with, and this last bastion of lost hope seems to be a gathering ground for the best of it.
DLB: Whoa, it sounds like the perfect workplace for DLB Witches! Where on earth do you work?
BG: The Mail Recovery Center of the United States Postal Service, more commonly called the Lost Letters Office.
DLB: Oh, then your job can’t always be funny. To where do you escape when you’re angry?
I had the unfortunate opportunity of finding a piece of rebar with my abdomen. Luckily nothing major was damaged, but my mother nearly killed me.
BG: To my wall. Nothing works out my anger as well as going through the new tips and messages from the missing children’s line. I feel like I’m actually able to accomplish something while I’m working, rather than just spinning my wheels, and it allows me to let go of whatever anger I’m feeling.
DLB: We feel that getting online can be therapeutic, as well, though we take a very random approach. Like, just recently we took to the net to locate the best gallery of body scars. Don’t ask me why that contributed to our conversation. Do you have any scars? If so, how did you get them?
BG: Hah, too many to go into all the details, but suffice to say I have a scar on almost any body part and they can be summed up into these two categories: stupid stunts as a kid or workplace slip with a wood working tool. The biggest one is on my side, and it comes from sledding one winter down a hill by a farm outside of town. We hadn’t realized that the farmer was dumping construction refuse in the ditch at the bottom that year, so when we took our sleds down it, I had the unfortunate opportunity of finding a piece of rebar with my abdomen. Luckily nothing major was damaged, but my mother nearly killed me.
DLB: We’re sure she did! Were you close with your mom? Did you keep secrets from her? Oh, better yet: do you have any good secrets you’ll tell us?
BG: Why would I be sharing it with you if it’s a secret? Rather rude of you to ask…besides, anything I might call a secret was probably plastered all over the news when my son went missing and that muck-raker started saying I did it.
DLB: We’re so sorry, Ben. We didn’t mean to be intrusive. Curiosity is an unfortunate byproduct of everyday witchery. How about this: Let’s say it’s Sunday morning. What are you doing?
BG: If it’s sunny, I’m usually out flyering a part of town with my son’s missing posters. If its not, I’m inside working through the tip-lines and news articles.
DLB: Ok, as promised we won’t broach that topic. Let’s keep it light. You’re getting out for the night. Where are you going?
BG: To pick up food and come back and work, or to follow up on a lead I found buried in the tips.
DLB: And lastly, Ben–What is your most everlasting childhood memory?
BG: I begged and begged my father for a bunk bed when I was fairly little and he bought it for me on the understanding that I would be brave enough to get down from it myself in the middle of the night. Welp, first night in the bed, I freaked out and started calling for him to come help me get down and he walks in, takes the ladder away from the side of the bed, puts it against the far wall, and walks back out. I finally got up the courage to climb down the side of the bed and get to the bathroom by myself, but to this day, he claims he was sleepwalking when he did it.
There you have it, folks. We apologize again to Ben for being so nosy, and we thank him so much for sitting down with us for this exclusive interview.
If you want to know more about Ben and about the thing we promised not to talk about, click on the link below to read the full story:
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