The Morning Redemption Of One Michael Bay
A brief glimpse into the explosive life of the auteur of immolation
6:45 am
Still trapped in a dream, I toss and turn. The same dream has haunted me since childhood. I have filled an old Pepsi bottle with Draino and a wad of aluminum foil and am shaking it violently. I lob it into a room full of Fabergé eggs and porcelain figurines. The bottle swells rapidly but just at the moment of climax emits a clownish giggling noise and deflates without further fanfare. Nothing is broken but me. Darkness falls again.
7:15 am
I wake up to the smell of my alarm clock: a fistful of sparklers setting my curtains on fire. For a moment I am lost and look around for a menagerie of unbroken porcelain figures. It is only my bedroom, a replica of one of the Alcatraz cells from “The Rock”, and I am at peace again.
7:30 am
Swaddled in my Megatron bedroom slippers and Snuggie, I sit down for a Zoom interview with some obscure podcaster. The interviewer mistakes me for the lead singer of the Steve Miller Band. I google the singer’s name. It’s Steve Miller. Outraged, I shove the laptop into the microwave and admire the sparks until the battery explodes.
