The Sean Ferrell Experience
March 15, 2010 § 25 Comments
I am new to the Sean Ferrell Experience and like it quite a bit. He is kind, funny, and unconditionally forgiving when I get his name wrong. We recently discussed the topic of author photos and how serious some writers are about them. If I were to roast an author’s picture, for example, it’d be best to get their permission beforehand Do not make fun of their photo without having met them because you never know who might be offended (oopsie). Mr. Ferrell graciously volunteered his own photo for me to “admire.” After I saw what the talented photographer captured of Mr. Ferrell, I wondered what inspired his expression. What sort of ambience would draw such a performance from our esteemed author? My mind wandered.
The studio was silent except for the photographer’s nervous pacing. As expected, Mr. Ferrell was late. When he finally arrived with his entourage of two assistants (One dressed as Batman and the other, a farmer) and four Chihuahuas, he didn’t seem particularly eager to get out of his fur coat and paper Krispy Kreme hat. He instead settled into the photographer’s chair and let Farmer Brown pour him a glass of Cristal. One Chihuahua jumped into Mr. Ferrell’s lap. The dog’s pink tongue tasted a bit of bubbly before Mr. Ferrell, himself, brought the drink to his lips. The other dogs waited at his feet.
Batman approached the photographer. “We assume you received the list of Mr. Ferrell’s requirements.”
“Yes, yes. They’re all here for Mr. Ferrell. If he’d just get ready…” The photographer gestured to the area in front of the camera.
“Mr. Ferrell would like to see everything he asked for.” The Caped Crusader crossed his arms over his chest.
“Of course, of course. I apologize.” The photographer darted across the room to a piece of machinery. “Here we have the, uh, bubble machine you asked for, Mr. Ferrell.” He flipped a red button. A low hum emanated from the machine and an endless delight of bubbles filled the room.
“Very good,” Batman answered.
“Ah, let’s see. Mr. Ferrell also asked for some music.” The photographer pulled a small remote out of his back pocket, pushed a button, and JayZ’s “New York” began to play on surround sound.
Mr. Ferrell’s brow creased. He stopped stroking the Chihuahua in his lap. Farmer Brown immediately lowered his ear next to Mr. Ferrell’s face.
“He’s changed his mind. JayZ isn’t right for what Mr. Ferrell wants at the moment. “Jessie’s Girl” is more appropriate.”
“I completely agree, Mr. Ferrell.” The photographer pushed another button, amending the music.
“Are we ready now, Mr. Ferrell?”
He sipped his champagne.
Batman cleared his throat. “The fly girls.”
“I don’t do anything without the hunnies,” Mr. Ferrell said quietly to the dogs.
The photographer’s hand went to his forehead. “How silly of me to forget, they are right in this coat closet.” The closet door opened and a dozen scantily clad women poured into the studio. Their heels clacked on the hardwood floor as they danced awkwardly to the music. The dogs yapped and skirted around their dancing feet. Mr. Ferrell eyed the scene indifferently and took another sip.
Farmer Brown removed the delicate Krispy Kreme hat and watched in reverent awe as Mr. Ferrell stood. He slipped out of the fur coat and walked through the hunnies, dogs, bubbles, and 80’s music to the camera. He oozed apathy.
“I believe there is one more thing on the list,” said Batman.
The photographer stopped behind the camera. “Surely, Mr. Ferrell is joking. He doesn’t really want that incorporated into this photo.”
“Oh, he wants it.” Farmer Brown pulled the missing component out of a black bag and walked to Mr. Ferrell’s side.
“Alright then. On the count of 3, Mr. Ferrell. 1, 2…”
Farmer Brown placed the cattle prod against the great author’s side and zapped.
Thanks to Sean Ferrell for being such a sport about this. Sean’s first book Numb will be released August 3rd of this year by HarperCollins. You can read a review by the delicious Elisabeth Black. If you would like your author photo roasted, I am more than happy to oblige. Who knows? You might like it.