It’s a slow question week as the holidays are here so Mr. Federal Way is taking one of your questions and then letting you inside the Federal Ways’ home for a recent dinner conversation.

Mr. Federal Way knows you have been waiting for this opportunity. Merry Christmas. Mr. Federal Way’s greatest gift to you is him sharing his time with you.

Q: Mr. Federal Way, you don’t know me but I work for the city and your columnist Bob Roegner is causing my boss all kinds of issues. Mayor Jim Ferrell is a good guy and doesn’t deserve the bad press that Roegner stirs up. Can you talk to the boss of your newspaper and request that this guy be let go?

A: Uh, no. You have the wrong guy. I am just a lonely writer that is not sure the publisher likes in the first place. Mr. Federal Way is certainly not going to stick up for somebody asking a question that he doesn’t know and who won’t tell Mr. Federal Way who you are.

How does Mr. Federal Way know you’re not the mayor himself writing this question? There’s actually a tremendous amount of irony in the last statement coming from a writer no one knows, but Mr. Federal Way’s column, Mr. Federal Way’s rules. Deal with it. Besides, Roegner’s writings are a bit like Mr. Federal Way’s high school dates. Some were good, some were bad, but at the end of the night you may score.

Last week, the Federal Ways sat down for a dinner in the least used room in the house, the dining room. With apologies to the band Fun, these are “Some Nights” in the Federal Ways’ household:

Mr. FW: Kids, tell me and your mom about your week.

Kids: Combination eye roll with a hair flop. Degree of difficulty, 2.3.

Well that was easy. They’re out.

Mr. FW: You know, I’ve been thinking about this dream I’ve been having.

Mrs. FW: Don’t strain a muscle, dear. The holidays are approaching and I need you around to deal with your side of the family.

Mr. FW: Very funny. Anyhow, lately some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck and some nights I just call it a draw.

Mrs. FW: Honey, without bad luck, you wouldn’t have any luck at all. I think a draw should be considered a win for you.

Mr. FW: Wow, whose side are you on anyway?

Mrs. FW: I’m on the side of truth, justice and the Federal Ways.

Mr. FW: Whatever. Can we move on, please? Now I know why I became a writer. The keyboard doesn’t talk back. So, some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle, and some nights I wish they’d just fall off.

Mrs. FW: I’ll bet the mayor wishes your lips would fall off. He would probably pay for the surgery. By the way, why don’t you invite him over for the holidays for dinner? I won’t charge and he won’t have to buy a ticket. It’s free and free is always better than cheap or so I have been told. Have him bring his lovely wife. He’ll have to ask her if he can come anyway.

Mr. FW: (Shaking my head). And the people of Federal Way think I am the mean one. Wait until they get a load of this.

Anyway, but then I woke up and I still don’t know what I stand for.

Mrs. FW: I’m not following you. Are you having a stroke or did you fall off the ladder and hit your head?

Mr. FW: Neither. It’s just that most nights I don’t know anymore.

Mrs. FW: I believe this is what you men call a mid-life crisis.

Mr. FW: No, it’s not that. A mid-life crisis is finding a girlfriend or buying a Corvette. Neither of which I can afford working for this newspaper. It’s just that I work twice as hard and have half as many friends. I’m not sure this is what I signed up for.

Mrs. FW: Well, dear, you have me.

Mr. FW: Now, no reason to get insulting.

Mrs. FW: That was funny. Besides it’s a wonder that you have any friends at all with the columns that you write. You’re about as graceful as a rhino on skates with your writings.

Mr. FW: You’re enjoying this aren’t you?

Mrs. FW: A little, my dear, a little.

Mr. FW: Well, life is going so great and then here they come again to jack my style.

Mrs. FW: At least you’re not in Wal-Mart destroying a lot of clothes.

Mr. FW: That was disgusting. Can we concentrate here? It’s just that some nights I wish that this all would end as I could use some friends for a change. Some nights I’m scared you’ll forget me. But when I wake up, I see you’re there, but I’m still not sure what I stand for.

Mrs. FW: The mayor has been trying to forget about you for two-plus years. It hasn’t worked for him and it won’t work for me. Why would I want to? What, with all of this?

Mr. FW: Now don’t get sarcastic. That’s my job. I’ll have you know that it took me many years to work up to this double-wide. So this is it? I sold my soul for this? Washed my hands for this?

Mrs. FW: I hope you didn’t sell your soul for this. We’ll need it to pay for rent or at least for the mayor’s dinner. And you better have washed your hands. No telling where your keyboard has been.

Mr. FW: You’re in a real listening mood tonight. Oh, come on. What I’m trying to say is that I’m five minutes in and I’m bored again. Ten years of this and I’m not sure if anybody understands.

Mrs. FW: You should try becoming a politician. No one understands them either and it won’t last 10 years either. Just ask the mayor. He’ll make it four years with all the ready-shoot-aim decisions he makes. He makes you look like Albert Einstein, though Al had better hair.

Mr. FW: Good talk, sweetie, good talk.

Q: Mr. Federal Way, are you the real Santa Claus?

A: None of your business.

Mrs. FW: He is if you count the amount of coal that he gets. On the bright side, this does cut down on our winter heating bill. That does make the dear boy a bit cheerier.

Got a question for Mr. Federal Way? Email mrfederalway@federalwaymirror.com