FU Short Stories: The New Life Of Bill O’Brien
The satirical scene that follows is a riff off a conversation from a recent FantasyUnleashd podcast. You can subscribe on Apple Podcasts or Spotify.
Colleen didn’t want to go downstairs today. She couldn’t stand to hear the same things again, to repeat it all over again. In all honesty, she could have happily stayed in bed all day.
“Colleen!” she heard from down the stairs. “COLLEEN!” She sighed.
Bill was in the living room. Despite her many pleas for him to shave, Bill’s beard continued to grow in for the first time in years, but really his entire appearance was unkept. He wore the same robe he’s been wearing for weeks, same portion of chest hair popping out the top, again wearing the Shrek slippers the kids bought him for Christmas a few years back.
The same wild look in his eyes, the same purple rings below them. Sitting in the same chair, the same game on the television: the 2019 playoff match-up between the Chiefs and Texans. He didn’t even watch it anymore. It just played on repeat on the TV.
He had the same book in his hands, something on Ulysses S. Grant, which she couldn’t understand how he hadn’t finished yet. Scattered on the ground around his feet were dozens of unfinished crossword puzzles. Written overtop of some of them in big black letters were half thoughts like “DAVID JOHNSON ELITE.”
“HOPKINS CONTRACT”
“DIVISION CHAMPIONS”
“GM OF THE CENTURY!!!”
Bill was holding his book extremely close to his face. In his typical fashion, he let out a grunt every few seconds.
“What do you need, Bill?” Colleen asked.
Bill didn’t respond, kept his nose in the book. Another grunt. The slippers wiggled.
“Bill, honey?…” Colleen took a few steps closer to Bill.
“Get back!” he spat, throwing the book across the room. “Can’t I have a moment of peace?!”
“Bill, you’ve been sitting here reading that book for days on end.”
“What the hell do you know about the Civil War? This is serious literature! THESE MEN GAVE THEIR LIVES! THEY DIED, COLLEEN!”
“Okay—”
“THEY WERE JUST BOYS!”
“I know, dear, but I don’t know wha—”
“Where’s my cereal?” Bill asked, now suddenly calm.
“I… I can get you a bowl.” Colleen turned back to him. “What would think about going on a walk today? Get some fresh air. Maybe after that we—”
“Oh, here we go again! I need to be everything at once, AGAIN. Why can’t everyone just leave me be? I may not be a coach anymore, but I’m still a leader! I will get us through this!” Bill was blinking wildly with his eyes directed toward the floor.
Colleen dropped her head and ambled to the kitchen, grabbed one of the several giant-sized boxes of Frosted Flakes from the cabinet, the only food in there, and poured a bowl, added the milk. She carried it back into the living room and placed it in Bill’s lap.
He stared at the bowl.
“Can you at least say ‘thank you’?”
Bill began breathing heavily, in and out, in and out. Then he shouted, “THANK. YOOUUUU!” and buried his face in the bowl, splashing milk everywhere. He shook his head violently and made strange noises that sounded like “blub blub blub blub.”
“Bill!" yelled Colleen. “What is wrong with you?! What’s happened?”
“Blub blub blub blub.” Milk going everywhere.
Colleen looked up at the TV that was still showing the Chiefs-Texans playoff game. She walked over, looked back at Bill, blubbing away, and she unplugged it. At that moment, Bill’s wild behavior stopped. He stood up, milk dripping from his face, a few flakes stuck on his forehead.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay, Bill…”
Bill looked up at Colleen with tears in his eyes. “Why did I trade him, Colleen?” Bill began to break down, and fell into Colleen’s arms. “Why did I trade him?”
“Oh, Bill,” said Colleen, consoling him. “I don’t think it mattered, honey.”
Bill made a confused face and looked up at her. “Huh?”
“I mean, your defense fucking sucked anyway. You guys didn’t have a chance. You weren’t even close, honey. I mean, it was a complete train wreck.”
Bill blinked, stared off into the distance for a moment, and then cried like he never cried before. Colleen continued to hold him, even though he smelled like shit.
