[ WP ] Tell me the story of the one eyed , one horned , flying purple people eater .

`` So how'd the band work out?'' 
 
 The O.E.O.H.F.P.P.E., as he insisted on being called, dismissively waved one massive claw. `` Did some session work in the'60s. Eventually we got a gig opening for the Stones, but it got canceled after Altamont. Everything sorta fell apart after that.'Creative differences', as they say.'' 
 
 `` Stay in touch with them at all?'' 
 
 `` I like to think I'll always have the band within me.'' 
 
 I nodded, scribbling. Good quote. This was exactly the type of shit `` where are they now'' assignment young reporters had to prove themselves on, and I meant to make the piece *sing*. `` By the way, P.P. -- can I call you P.P.?'' 
 
 `` No.'' 
 
 `` Um. Okay. Anyway, what's up with the voice?'' 
 
 `` What do you mean?'' the purple monstrosity asked in his Alvin-on-Valium monotone squeak. 
 
 `` Never mind.'' Fucking show biz types, I was sick of them already. `` So, let's talk about the new project.'' 
 
 He perked up visibly, his long red tongue snaking out to flick at his single horn in a simultaneously endearing and disconcerting gesture. `` It's a one-monster show called *The Horn Monologues*. I talk about the prejudice faced by keratinous anthrophages --'' 
 
 `` There's more than one of you?'' 
 
 `` What? No.'' He looked annoyed, and I cursed myself for interrupting his flow. `` Figure of speech. Anyway, it has poetry and stuff.'' 
 
 `` Stuff?'' He shrugged. *Great, now he's sulking. * `` Can I ask --'' 
 
 `` Say,'' he interrupted, `` If you do n't turn in your interview, will they send someone else?'' 
 
 `` Uh...'' I was n't sure I liked where this was going, but did n't the song say he only ate *purple* people? I'm more of a light mocha. 
 
 `` Would you describe yourself as tough?'' His prehensile tail had extended out behind him and seemed to be groping for something in the kitchenette of his trailer. 
 
 Thank God I'd done my research. `` Yes,'' I said firmly. `` I'm *so* tough.'' 
 
 `` Pity,'' he muttered, tail dropping a bottle of purple food coloring back into its drawer. 
 
 `` Thankyouforyourtime, Mr. O.E.O.H.F.P.P.E.'' I practically leapt out of the chair. At least I would n't have to shake hands with something that did n't have them. `` I'll send you a copy of the article.'' *That almost certainly is n't going to run anyway. * 
 
 `` Very well.'' He yawned hugely and gestured toward the door, which I was already halfway out of. By the time I was back in the city, I'd already left my cousin two voicemails about that job at his ad agency. Because as bad as the O.E.O.H.F.P.P.E. had been... what if I ended up having to interview Kanye?
