by Fionna Farell
[originally published November 2021]
At the ripe age of fifteen, “they” all knew that Billie Eilish was going to be a huge star. We have that vision, too, but for this 28 year-old piece of shit called Michael Toris. I met Michael at a dog therapy institute a few years ago (his pomeranians were going through a bout of depression and my pug was having prolific humping issues). Michael seemed really interesting, so I naturally asked him if he’d like to be interviewed for four years in a row, like Finneas’s sister. “Candace?” he asked me, and I said yes, because sometimes you have to lie to get what you want. Boy do I regret it.
Q: What is your name?
2018: Michael Toris. How much are you paying me?
2019: Michael Toris.
2020: Mike Lee Toris.
2021: This is getting out of hand. I am Michael Toris, and I’m doing this shit til I’m 90.
Q: What is the date?
2018: October third, 2018.
2019: October third, 2019.
2020: It’s October third, 2020.
2021: It’s the third day of the tenth month of the twenty-twenty-oneth year after something happened to Jesus.
(Note: Interviews were conducted on May 8th of each year, Michael just really likes Clueless)
Q: How many Instagram followers do you have?
2018: Approximately 98 or so, but that’s only because my account is on private. I keep the circle tight.
2019: 93. This might be kind of weird to ask, but I’m not ugly, right?
2020: 98. Feeling great.
2021: Idk (Michael says the physical letters “i””d””k”), 20k or so? I do customized dog sweaters now. We’re called BH Snuggles, after my late pomeranians, Butch and Hunter.
Q: Who is the most famous person who follows you?
2018: My mom.
2019: My stepsister. Mom unfollowed me.
2020: My mom.
2021: Nicholaus Braun from Succession. I made a sweater for his “dog.” Just saying, it was a big sweater…
Describe yourself in 2020:
2018: Um, two years older?
2019: One year older.
2020: Butch and Hunter passed last week. They haunt me in my sleep, nipping at my little piggies, ghost-shitting and pissing everywhere. Sorry, what was the question?
2021: Pretty pathetic. Not on that grindset, you know. But you know, no rain, no flowers. No rain, no grossly overpriced, bedazzled dog sweaters that say “filthy animal”, right?
What do you wish you could’ve accomplished this year?
2018: I could’ve showered more.
2019: I could’ve had my mom follow me on instagram for the whole year.
2020: I could’ve gotten a lot more pandemic bitches. And gotten a new pomeranian, one not liable to be all depressed and shit. Also not giving my late grandma COVID.
2021: I really wish I could’ve collaborated with some White House dogs, like made them subversive sweaters or something to remind politicians what they owe to the people. Like Cara Delivigne’s “Peg the Patriarchy” suit but for dogs. Pug the patriarchy? Too ribald?
Follow @michaeltorishurts on Instagram to see if he’s up for year five. Also-–big news-–his hair is brown now (his naturally blond hair reminded him too much of the “toxic energy” of his dead poms). Who knows what this man will do next! (Really. Someone please take over for me. You can have my pug. His name is Pickles, and he’s gotten over his condition.)