Written by Ellie James
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Saturday, 9 April 2011

Flat Stanley, adored by school children and teachers alike, left the Betty Ford clinic last month after entering around Christmas of 2010. When he entered rehab, he was sullen and pale. Not to mention high as a kite and cussing out the nurses. After a month long bender of crack and tequila, friends checked him into rehab. He looks like his perky old self now, and I was able to sit down with him recently and talk to him about his addictions, and his new hopes for a better future. The following is an excerpt from the interview:

EJ: So, Flat Stanley, how did a beloved 2 dimensional piece of paper get addicted to crack and tequila?

Flat Stanley: I guess it started around 2001. I was mailed to the Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin. He thought it would be funny to put me in the mouth of a crocodile. I shit my pants! I might be a fucking piece of paper, man, but I have feelings.

EJ: I can see how that experience might upset you, but why not sue him?

Flat Stanley: Crack just seemed like an easier option. At the time, I had a piece of shit manager and publicist who were stealing my money out from under me. I had no money to sue. Fired both their sorry asses. But, it wasn't just the Crocodile Hunter. It was the airline mechanics taunting me with open flames, the Microsoft exec who tried putting me in a shredder, and Charlie Sheen once rolled me up like a joint and tried to smoke me. Luckily, he was out of matches and I was able to get away. Plus, all those snot nose kids who want me to pose for pictures doing all this shit. I got no sleep, was mailed in envelopes. Contracted malaria. You name it! It fucking happened to me.

EJ: A Mircosoft exec tried to shred you? Who was it?
Flat Stanley: Sorry, man. Can't say who it was. I signed a confidentiality agreement. If his wife hadn't walked in with some 5th graders on a field trip, I wouldn't be here right now.

DFWian: Thank God for 5th graders.

Flat Stanley: Yeah. There aren't many times I thank God, or whoever, for 5th graders.

EJ: Did you find God in rehab?

Flat Stanley: No! Do you really think a 2 dimensional piece of paper believes in God? I do believe in Bono. He might be the messiah.

EJ: Were you able to see the 360 tour before you went to rehab?

Flat Stanley: Yeah. I don't remember a lot of it because I was high backstage with some hotties. I do remember they played the song Get on Your Boots. It really spoke to me. Soon after that, I realized I needed help. The line in the song that talks about candy bars and ice cream… Very powerful. Really, without my real friends, I would have been recycled in some plant on the West coast. Oddly, no one has mailed me to Bono. In all this time, how could someone NOT mail me to Bono?

EJ: So, what's next for Flat Stanley?

Flat Stanley: I have a new book out. That means I'll probably have to do another year of posing for pictures with jackasses. I keep telling myself that I can do anything for a year. I dunno though. I just long to find a nice 2 dimensional girl who gets it. It's really hard being 2 dimensional in a 3-D world.

EJ: So, no special lady in your life then?

Flat Stanley: I used to have a relationship with a paper cut out of Ariel. But, it was hard from the beginning. She always wanted more than I could really give her. I was never good enough. She was hot though.

EJ: Yeah…Ariel is hot. Were you ever lucky enough to get mailed to the Playboy mansion?

Flat Stanley: No. Never that lucky. Someone's dad though, as a joke, took me to hooters. They took pictures of me there. That was really the only fun thing I did. It's true that I've been to the White House, sat in the cockpit of Air Force One, had dinner with the Queen of England, but in the end, none of it matters. Really, Hooters was the highlight. Everything else runs together.

EJ: No? The fame, the money…none of it?

Flat Stanley: Nah….I just want to learn guitar, do yoga and find the fucking meaning of life. That, and I want to get laid by a hot chick who gets me.

There you have it, in Flat Stanley's own words. I don't know about you, but I hope he stays out of trouble and gets to finally realize his dreams. Here's to a clean and sober Flat Stanley. Note: At press time, Flat Stanley is about to be mailed to Istanbul.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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