My First Interview
By Reid Laurence
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“So tell me Mr. Laurence, how’s the writing going? Do you have anything in progress that you’d like to talk about?”
“Not really. I kinda gave it up for a while. It’s such a tough business to get going in.”
“So, what are your plans for the future then? What kind of things will you be investing your time in if you don’t write?”
“I wanna be a stand-up comic, that’s what I wanna do. I was always class clown when I was a kid but I just never followed through. I got some jokes I can tell you right now if you’re interested. Whaddaya think?”
“Alright then,” said my interviewer, wondering why he’d even continued talking to me after finding out I wasn’t interested in writing anymore. “Let’s hear your stuff. I’m all ears.”
“Okay, okay... don’t rush me now. I’m new at this but here goes... Whaddaya call a guy with no arms and no legs who hangs on the wall?”
“I don’t know?” replied my baffled interviewer. “Tell me, I’m dying to know.”
“Art.”
“Whaddaya think? Didja like it? Am I good or what?”
“Well, it’s kind of tough to say after only one joke but I like your unabashed delivery. Maybe you can pull it off, I don’t know.”
“Okay wait then, I got another... Whaddaya call a guy with no arms and no legs who sits by the door?”
“I really can’t say,” said the interviewer. “What do you call him?”
“Matt.”
“You seem to lean a lot toward no arm, no leg jokes,” remarked the journalist. “How about something a little less morbid?”
“Oh... I don’t know,” I answered. “It must be my mood. I’ve been depressed lately, what with giving up writing and all. Let me think.” And after a few moments of deep thought, I recalled something that I thought was sure to get a laugh out of my interviewer. “Okay, here goes,” I said. “Whaddaya call a guy with no arms an no legs who goes for swim?”
“I don’t know but I thought we were done with the no arm no leg jokes. Weren’t you gonna try something a little on the brighter side?”
“I would I guess but it’s just the way my mind’s working today. I just can’t switch gears. What am I gonna do? I stand in the shadows of giants like John Greasem an Bora Snoberts. I mean, whadda people see in them anyway? How many times can you write 500 page books about courtroom procedures? For that matter, how many times can you write huge novels that all say... ‘and then he took me in his arms and kissed me’, over and over and over again. I don’t know. I just don’t get it. I squeeze out a little 200 pager I think people might find interesting but no dice, it never seems to work.”
“So that’s what this is about. Your jealous or angry or what?”
“All of the above.”
“And that’s what’s got you down?”
“You said it.”
“So what’re you going to do about it?”
“Hell, what can I do. Brush up on my jokes I guess.”
“Alright then. Hey,” recalled my interviewer, weren’t you gonna finish the one about the guy with no arms an no legs who went for a swim?”
“Oh yeah, I was wasn’t I. You call him Bob, get it? Cause he just bob’s around in the water... get it?”
“Yes I get it, but I’m thinking you might want to invest your time in a different hobby. Something other then stand-up.”
“What, an wreck my streak? I’m on a roll, I can see it now. The excitement’s building, can’tcha feel it? Next stop, Hollywood!”
“Ahh, wasn’t I supposed to remind you about something? Didn’t you have some pills to take about now?”
“Oh yeah,” I remembered, rummaging around for the pill bottles I normally took at noon every day. “I’m no good at all without this stuff. I’ve been known to get a little manic without them. They keep my moods stable.”
“Are they doing their job?”
“I don’t know anymore. The doctor says, if I don’t jump off my roof, then we’ve succeeded.”
“Isn’t it a little late to start drawing conclusions after you’ve already jumped?”
“She’s a big believer in empirical medicine. You know, first hand knowledge and all that. Besides, I think I got lucky where doctors are concerned, don’t you? I mean, you can see how much she cares. And another thing, she told me this great doctor joke that really applies to my real life when you think about it. You wanna hear it?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Okay, so... my friend thinks he’s a chicken.”
“Alright, so your friend thinks he’s a chicken,” replied my interviewer. “So why don’t you get him some help?”
“I would,” I answered. “But I need the eggs.”
“Uhh, I understand the joke, but is there a moral or something you’re trying to tell me here? Like, we’re all co-dependent at times or what?”
“Nope, I just need the eggs, that’s all. It’s true, I really do. I told you it really applies. Say, can you toss me that bottle of Lexapro behind you?”
“No problem.”
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