Fiction By Eli Hopkins

Let me start by saying that your resume reads marvelously. The passion in your prose strikes me to the heart. For example, when you say that your career-objective is to “find a home within a family of a healthy and productive atmosphere”, I can scarcely find the words to describe the feelings. How you must have suffered. I can only imagine the years of torment and abuse you must have undergone to cause you to seek such sanctuary, and to render poetry to that effect.
I can’t help but notice there is little here addressing the details of your past experience, and there seem to be several gaps in your employment history, could you explain that?

I’m sure that javelins of tragedy have struck you repeatedly, even as you lie helpless, rendering you incapable of gainful employment.

Let’s talk about your references. I can’t help but notice that you have my name here. Clever boy, using your father’s name to get ahead. Weak-spirited perhaps, but clever. What else could be expected, of course, of a poor urchin such as yourself? It’s a marvel you have existed as well as you have, given no advantages whatsoever, and very little food. Even now you have a hungry, mystified look about you, as if you would climb across this very desk and take me by the throat for a mere crust of bread.
I just so happen to have a crust of bread here. Ah yes, there is the look I know so well.
While you’re enjoying that bread, why don’t you tell me about your strengths? Why do you deserve to become a member of this family? Aside from blood relation and whatnot. It says here that you claim to possess an indomitable worth ethic and are willing to go the extra mile. That is pretty language, to be sure, though I have to question its authenticity. Don’t forget, I’ve watched the evil you’ve done to the lawn for years, not to mention the chaos you’ve made of the woodshed. Don’t you remember me explaining to you how to properly stack the wood? And don’t tell me about being too cold to stack wood. Anyone would be cold if they weren’t allowed a jacket, there’s nothing special about that.
And don’t even get me started on that roofing project you never got around to finishing, it’s a miracle we haven’t all drowned in our beds.
If I were to offer you a position I would need utter confidence in your ability to carry out any tasks I lay before you, and I’ve got to tell you, that’s not what I’ve been seeing these last ten years. What I’ve seen is a spineless weakling who cries for its mother. What kind of impression does that make? Crying for a mother who isn’t even there? Like I said, you’ve had these ten years to get yourself in order—ten years—and I just haven’t seen the effort I was hoping for. I would advise you to start impressing me if you don’t wish to find yourself on the streets.

I wish you would stop staring at my pistol, that’s not why I keep it on my desk.

What’s the matter? What am I meant to understand from those violent gestures? Was the bread too dry? Do you need perhaps some water to wash it down? I suppose that’s my fault. It seems that I’ve been spoiling you. Well that’s all over now, for your own sake. You won’t be getting an ounce of water from me. And don’t try getting it someplace else either, because I’ll know, and I’m going to let everyone know ahead of time not to give you any.
Let’s move on. It says here that you’ve completed your education through the third grade. Well, we both know what a liar you are, don’t we? How about a little proof? Here, solve this long-division problem; we’ll see how smart you are with no mother to help you. Speaking of your mother, I think it’s time you stopped mentioning her all together. Pining for the past like that, it only spreads weakness through the body and mind like a pestilence. I myself haven’t thought of your mother for several minutes, and look at me. That’s strength for you, Son. That’s the kind of strength you’re going to need to make it through the waking nightmare that is life.
Seriously, don’t stare at my pistol.

Well if we aren’t going to discuss this like adults—like gentlemen—then I don’t even know why I let you in the house.

You’d think that a little appreciation would be in order. After all, I’m the one who lets you sleep in the yard year round. That’s every kid’s dream! When I was your age I was dying of boredom at school and at the many functions that were organized specifically to showcase my various talents. You have no idea how lucky you are not to even have any talents! And you indulge yourself! That’s no way to live, even for a small child. You must keep from yourself that which you desire. As soon as you find yourself desiring something, you must immediately set about destroying it in your heart, that way you will never lose. Are you even listening?
I see the way you’re looking at me. Do you think I’m enjoying this steak? Do you think that I enjoy eating a steak while you gnaw on your bread? Of course not! I loathe this steak, which happens to be from the finest Kobe stock to be found in the world! And I couldn’t help but notice that you aren’t enjoying your bread especially either, which makes us the same after all! Don’t you see?