Pulp Fiction: Breaking: Edwin McCain A Liar

This article was originally published in The Daily Pulp on September 15, 2013.

September: fall breeze, a football tossed in the air and a time when only one thing is on everyone’s mind—self-improvement. Yep, September is National Self-Improvement Month, and while this makes no sense whatsoever (January feels like the logical choice, but hey, we’re not calling the shots), it did give us the chance to do some serious investigative reporting.

In 1997, singer/songwriter Edwin McCain promised the masses to become a better person when he got older. As with any goal, it is important for someone to hold you accountable, which is whyThe Daily Pulp took on the responsibility of contacting McCain’s former love interest, Sarah Atkins, when we received an anonymous tip that McCain is, in fact, a total train wreck.

“Frankly, he harassed me,” says Sarah Atkins of Greenville, S.C. “Not physically, but he would call me on the phone late at night, crying, begging me to tell him that we belonged together. ‘Tell me!’ he would say, ‘Tell me that we belong together!’”

“We had only been on one date. It was weird.”

McCain apparently has not stopped calling for the past 16 years. Sarah was able to block his number, but that didn’t stop the goateed musical madman.

“I’m married now, with kids. I started my own small business, a health and yoga studio called YourLife. Edwin liked it on Facebook and started posting on the fan page’s wall.”

Atkins flagged the posts for spam, but The Daily Pulp contacted Facebook and was provided with the following post:

“I’ll be the GREATEST fan of YourLife! See? SEE?!”

“There’s no room for humor in these kinds of cases,” said Officer Jeffry Gaither of the Greenville Police Department. “People like Edwin are dangerous. We’ve even had reports of love suicide.”

I was personally able to connect with Edwin McCain via phone call this past week. When I asked him about his life, if he was really where he wanted to be, if he had become a better person, McCain answered in typical fashion.

“Every prayer has been answered,” he said, with a reassured ease. “Every dream has come true. Right here in this moment is right where I’m meant to be. Here with you. Here with me.”

He then appeared from behind my couch with an acoustic guitar and I called the cops.

Cover image archived from the original web layout:


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