We've managed to track down an elusive literary figure. I am in an undisclosed location with an erstwhile schoolteacher who almost lost his head over a girl, Mr. Ichabod Crane.
Greg: Thank you for joining us, Mr. Crane. It's very exciting to have you here.
Ichabod: Er, um, thank you. It's very flattering of you to say. I have to admit that I am a trifle nervous to have you here. You weren't followed, were you?
Greg: No, definitely not. I followed your instructions to the letter, even the part about not passing the pumpkin patch in the light of a full moon.
Ichabod: Hmmm...you'll forgive me if I remain skeptical. I've spent many years ensuring that my whereabouts remain secret. I only agreed to this interview because I thought it was time for my side of my story to be told, and because you said you were a famous, well respected author who could publicize is.
Greg: Um, yeah, well I hope to be one day. Anyway, if I were a famous, well respected author, I couldn't have come here without being followed. But that's not important. I think the world wants to know what happened to you that night when the Headless Horseman.
Ichabod: Yes, as well you might. It was a dark moonlit night, and my thoughts were full of the lovely Katrina Van Tassel and the prospect of being wed to her. I was not particularly worried as I passed through the hollow on my way back to the schoolhouse.
However, the night was dark and the moon had moved behind the clouds when I heard the sound of galloping hooves behind me. At first, I was not unduly alarmed, as I assumed it was someone else making their way home from Squire Van Tassel's party.
Greg: Brom Bones? Oh yeah, he was your rival for the lovely Katrina, right?
Ichabod: Precisely, although it is highly unlikely that he would have succeeded had I been allowed to remain in the running. Unfortunately, that was not to be.
So, as I was saying, the thought began to creep into my head that perhaps the galloping horse behind me was being ridden by the selfsame Headless Horseman. I thought it prudent at that point to urge my horse forward so as to forestall a meeting with whomever might be following after me.
Unfortunately, my pursuer was none other than the Headless Horseman. At least he did not seem to have a head and he was brandishing a sword. I picked up the pace so as to attempt to out run him, but I was unsuccessful.
Greg: Okay, so he caught you, but he obviously didn't kill you. What happened?
Ichabod: Well. you won't believe this, but he said he was from the future. He offered me a position as an operative for a secret intergalactic agency. I am now known as Agent I of the Men In Black agency.
As a MIB agent, I discovered that Brom Bones was really an intergalactic smuggler and Katrina was his seven foot hair-covered copilot. They were rehabilitated and would later star in a popular science fiction movie series.
Greg; Really? I find that incredible, and also a little intriguing. That can't be true, though. You're pulling my leg, right?
Ichabod: Ha, ha, that's right. I did have you going there for a little bit, though didn't I? I really don't have much of a story to tell. Now, why don't you just take a look at this ballpoint pen that I'm holding up here...