My attempt at Miley Cyrus porn fan fiction

Miley Cyrus' skin is far more freckled up close than you would think. She pouts her lips at you and she makes funny faces whenever you tell her something she disagrees with, like that her Dad used to be way famous before her, and that women think he's sexy even with the mullet haircut.

Miley wants me to do an interview with Barbara Walters. Miley wants me to dispel rumors that I get money from doing interviews about her.  Barbara will pay us 1 million dollars for the interview.

I told Miley from the moment I met her that I would never take a dollar from her. I even signed agreements that exclude the possibility of me making any money out of our relationship.

"I don't really see an upside here for me, Miley."

"Everybody thinks it's a good idea." Everybody is the lawyers and the lawyers are scared shitless that I am ruining Miley's career. I tell Miley that I will come off looking like the creepy old guy who just wants to Britney Spears her ass and get to the money.

Miley reminds me that she is an adult now.

"I'm 18. And I am totally legal. We met after I turned 18 so I don't see how you are doing anything wrong. I know you aren't some kind of pedophile."  She says.

Miley is young enough to be my daughter. I'm 41 years old, so I am just a few years younger than her father. Her father is not pleased about our age difference. Though I am sure some small part of him wonders what he did wrong. Maybe bath time with daddy lasted too long, maybe old Billy Ray should put a towel on after getting out of the pool. Either way, I refuse to spank her and I never let her call me daddy in public. Billy Ray is 6 foot giant of a man and could kick my ass.

Barbara Walters is old. I am not sure what kind of lighting they use to disguise her appearance on TV but it takes 6 men and boxes of equipment to do it. The men take 3 hours to set up the shot, they place me next to Miley on a love sofa.

We had the interview at Miley's place even though I don't live with Miley. I have my own place I tell Barbara, "I even have a job and car. I can take care of myself. Not always well, like a lot of working people in this country, I don't think the policies of the current administration are helping the middle class, but I just want the American public to know that I am not using Miley for her fame or fortune."

I felt good about getting that shot off against the president and his policies, maybe something good can come from this after all.

I am not exactly sure when I started to cry during the interview. I'd like to think that is was at least halfway through it, but some of my crueler friends point out that you can see tears streaming down my cheek almost right away. I guess I was nervous.

"Did you want to do this interview?" Barbara asks. Barb does her homework. She must have someone on the inside, because Miley and me had our first and only real argument over me doing the interview.

"To be honest," I tell Barbara "not really."

"I am going to come off a bit paranoid in this part, but you'd be paranoid too. I have lawyers and publicists that tell me what to. They tell me how to answer your questions without really answering your questions. They tell me to deflect. I think that's the key word they used, "deflect." I found the publicist at didyoufuckup? dot com, and I paid them 19.99 a month for advice. I am pretty sure the website simply copies and pastes from Public Speaking 101 text books, but I don't have a lot of money to spend on things like that. I've got bills like normal people. I get 163 death threats a day. I don't think people understand that."

I think I just broke the first rule of not looking like your paranoid. I try to continue, "One day Miley could get bored with me. And when she does..." Miley nudges me with her elbow, because she gets pissed when I tell her I am just some passing fad with her, that she will grow bored with me. We have almost fights when I tell her how she has an opportunity to meet "anybody and everybody, the famous and the talented, and I can't compete with that."

Miley does her best to calm my anxiety attacks at these moments. She tells me how special I am to her, and how I make her feel, and that no one has ever made her feel the way I make her feel. Most of the times this calms me down, but when I think about it later I realize that my being with Miley is purely dependent on her emotional state and connectedness with me. I have nothing else to anchor her to me. As soon as her teenage hormones calm down I will be on my way out.

"And then I will have to go back to my normal life. Or what I mean is, I will still need to be able to have a regular life. I could get fired from my job for coming on this interview and talking about my relationship. It's going to be hard out there for me now. I don't want to be famous!"

I was basically pleading with Barbara by this point.

"Phillip McCracken is an asshole! He's the most popular podcaster and radio host of all time. And he is making my life miserable."

"All he does is spread rumors on his talk show about how he thinks he should be with Miley and not me and how old I am and how creepy I am."

I ask her, "But have you seen his Myspace page? Gimme a break the guy is totally creepier than me!"