Interview with Eman Singles

Posted on December 15, 2011


Eman Singles sat with his hands cuffed behind his back and his ankles chained to the floor. Before him was a metal table. He looked around impatiently. Suddenly, the door open to the tiny room. A tall man wearing a black suit walked in. With him he had a note pad, pen and tape recorder. He shut the door behind him and walked over to the table and sat. He set the tape recorder on the table and hit the record button. He looked at his wrist watch and said, “The current time is six minutes past nine in the evening, Pacific Standard Time. The interview with mister Eman Singles has now begun.”
He uncapped his black ink pen and held it over the note pad, poised to write.
“Mister Eman Singles-”
“Fuck you,” he spat.
The man continued on as if he had said nothing.
“What was your childhood like?”
“Please answer the question, mister Singles.”
“Tell me your name.”
The man sighed.
“If I tell you my name, will you be more cooperative?”
“Yes or no, mister Singles.”
“Jacob Hastings.”
Eman nodded. “Good name.”
Jacob ignored his compliment.
“What was your childhood like?”
“Nothing special.” Eman’s gaze fell to the table. He spoke as if in a trance. “My parents argued a lot, the police were called a lot. I was spanked a lot. But at the same time, I was a little spoiled. Only a little. Then my parents got a divorce and my mom had a restraining order on my dad. Still nothing special. Then my mom tried as hard as she could to make my sister and I happy, so she spoiled us. And I became a jovial little fat fuck.”
Jacob nodded and quickly scribbled words in his note pad.
“The problem is,” Eman continued, his eyes still glued to the table. ” I made myself into the class guinea pig at school. People liked to make fun of me, and make me do stupid things for their enjoyment. Although I partly did stupid things on my own as well. It was all for the sake of making someone laugh. I was transfixed on the idea. There was just something great about making another person laugh, even at the cost of my dignity. It just made me feel good.”
“So,” Jacob began. “Why did you go from enjoying making people laugh to…to..this?”
“Well like I said, my classmates began to enjoy using me for their entertainment. It eventually got to me in eigth grade, and I broke down.”
“What do you mean?”
“I started hating myself, and people.”
Jacob nodded. “Go on.”
“Well that made high school a nightmare. I barely had friends most of the time. Any friends I had made became fed up with my depression and left. And the bastards were never kind about it either. It was never like, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know how to help’, it was always like, ‘You’re a nuisance, you bring me down, and you were never worth being friends with’. That sort of garbage. If I ever see them again, I’ll murder them.”
“I don’t think that’ll ever happen.”
“Yeah, now that I’m here. They’re fortunate.”
Jacob nodded again. “Mhm.”
Eman finally looked up at him.
“Can I ask you something, Jacob?”
Jacob looked up from his note pad. After a moment of deliberating, he said, “Sure.”
“Do you know what it’s like to feel as though you’re invisible?”
Jacob shook his head.
“I mean, some people wish to be sometimes, right?”
“Yes, that is true. Sometimes I wish I was, because of the demands of my work.”
Eman nodded.
“I wish I had that luxury; to actually want to be invisible, instead of not being given the choice. Do you know how painful it is to not have many people to interact with? Some say that a few good friends are better than a lot of fake ones, but I’m not so sure about that. A few good ones always end up being busy with their other friends, and the demands in their lives, leaving you with yourself. What kind of a life is that? A life of lonliness, of which you have no control? Where people don’t like you just because you are? Nobody liked me before because of my depression and my horribly awkward nature. Now people I don’t even know, don’t like me, thanks to what I have done, and the media.”
“An awful existence.”
“I blame it on others.”
“Because it’s everyone else that leaves me, not the other way around. While I go searching for interaction, they run away from it. Because…because..”
He slammed his head on the table, startling Jacob. Blood trickled down Eman’s face as he spoke.
“Because they’re afraid of a little silence! Why does silence have to be awkward?! Why is not the simple company of another’s presence good enough?! Why does every single moment have to be filled with useless jabber about nothing?!”
“Most people just don’t enjoy that awkward silence.”
Eman’s cry echoed like thunder. “WHY?!”
There was a knock at the door. Jacob looked at his watch. “The current time is ten minutes past ten in the evening, Pacific Standard Time. Interview with Eman Singles is now over.”
“NO!” Eman roared.
“I’m sorry Eman, but this is over. It’s time for your death sentence. You’re going to die for just being.”
Jacob gathered his things, stood and walked to the door. As he opened it, Eman said, “Jacob.”
Jacob looked back at him. With a menacing scowl, he said, “I’ll see you in hell.”

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