Brenda

by Lee Ellis

  “All right. Well, I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.”

  “Okay, Jacob. Have a terrific day,” Bethany said with a cheerfulness that would have put Santa Claus to shame. If it were humanly possible, she would have been shooting sunshine out of her ass. Which probably would have been a lot of sunshine. Because she’s fat. Like a beach ball.

  Jacob entered his office and turned on his computer. He opened a project he’d been working on Friday, despite the fact that he’d zoned out during the instructions and wasn’t sure what he was doing, and proceeded to stare at it for about ten minutes until Steve walked in.

  “Hey buddy. What’s up?” Steve asked, sitting down in the guest seat across from Jacob.

  “Working on that project you gave me last week,” Jacob said, trying to act like he were a productive member of society who gave a fuck about his job, instead of being, you know, Jacob.

  “Cool, cool,” Steve said, looking at the ground and then staring into his coffee cup. “Hey, so, uh, is this a good time to talk? I don’t want to interrupt you or distract you from your work or anything.”

  “Well, I am pretty busy with this project I’ve been working on, but I suppose now is as good a time as any. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, not much, not much, you know,” Steve said, obviously trying to avoid the topic of conversation he’d come here to discuss. “Oh hey, how was your weekend?”

  “Uh, it was good, I guess.” How was my fucking weekend? Jacob thought. Do you really think asking about my weekend is going to make me your friend? Jesus Christ, if you have something to say, just spit it out. Stop beating around the bush with this chummy bullshit.

  “Good, good,” Steve said, looking into his coffee cup as if it contained a video feed of a strip club’s dressing room. Which, early on a Monday morning, would probably have been pretty gross. He probably should have looked away. That pervert.

  “Uh, yep,” Jacob said, nodding his head and looking around in the awkward silence. “So, um, how was your weekend, I guess?”

  “Oh, it was good, it was good. Took the wife and kids out to their grandparents. My parents, not hers, thank god,” Steve said, and proceeded to elaborate on the fine details of his weekend with his family in a buffet of shit Jacob didn’t care about. Jacob continued to smile and nod and “mm-hmm”-ing from time to time.

  “Jacob, I’m done talking.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Jacob said, nodding politely.

  “Um, right. So anyway, you know I hate to do this, especially first thing on a Monday, but while I’ve got you hear, I was wondering if we could talk.”

  “I thought that was what we’ve been doing,” Jacob said, though he knew that wasn’t what they’d been doing.

  “No, I mean talk about something.”

  “Have we been talking about nothing?”

  “Well, not exactly. But I mean something important.”

  Jacob gasped. “Are you saying your wife and kids aren’t important?”

  “Well, to me they are, but that’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, Steve, do you not care about your family anymore?”

  “No, I love them.”

  “Has the love left your domestic relationships, so much so that when you enter your house after a hard day’s work, you feel more like an empty turtle shell than a man, abandoned and alone, just waiting for the tides of time to turn you into nothing more than sand?”

  “No, I’m actually quite happy. And I’m not entirely sure that’s how sand works.”

  “Oh, Steve, please don’t murder your wife. Don’t murder her and bathe in her blood while your children play on the floor with her organs, then drown the kids in their mother’s blood, chop them up into little meat pies and feed them to their schoolmates. Steve, no good can come from that.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Jacob, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Jacob shrugged. “Hey, I’m not the one planning to brutally murder my entire family.”

  “Okay, let’s back this up a second,” Steve said, taking a deep breath and a pause, probably fantasizing about his wife’s blood dripping down her neck into his bathtub, knowing that now that someone was onto him his demented plans could never come to fruition, that sick fuck. “What I meant to say is we need to talk about something work related.”

  “Steve, I don’t think helping you get away with murder qualifies as work related.”

  “That’s not what we’re talking about.”

  “I’m more than willing to help, I just don’t think it counts as work. I suppose if it will help you improve your work performance, then maybe, but I think this is something we should just keep off the record.”

  “It’s about that report you sent me last Thursday.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. The report that had nothing to do with familicide. What about it?” Jacob said, thinking, I sent a report last Thursday? I didn’t even remember we had a Thursday last week.

  “Now, I don’t want you to feel bad. Remember, we all started the same place, and I recognize you’re new here. It will take time to become accustomed to the way we do things here.”

  “Okay. Boy, it sure sounds like you’re about to say something that will make me feel bad though.”

  “No, no, not at all. And I’m only saying this to help you improve. Remember, this is a training program, and I’m doing you a disservice if I don’t point out your mistakes in a constructive manner, so that you can fix them and improve next time. That’s how you’re going to grow. That’s the work you need to do to become a good manager in this company.”

  Come on, Sally, get to the dance.

  “And this isn’t a reflection of you as a person. Like I said, I’m sure you’re more than capable of producing great work. It just takes time. The best managers at this company, they were all where you are when they first started too.”

  For fuck’s sake, just spit it out.

  “So keep that in mind as we go over this. I’m trying to be sensitive, and I don’t want you to feel bad. I just want to help you improve.”

  “Alright,” Jacob sighed. “So, what exactly was wrong with it?”

  “Well, it was completely wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it was wrong in every way something could be wrong. It was complete and utter shit. Your analysis was wrong, your recommendations were wrong even for your wrong analysis, and it wasn’t in the right format. You misspelled the company’s name, and even got the date wrong, for Christ’s sake.”

  “So much for not making me feel bad,” Jacob said, rolling his eyes.

  “Again, this isn’t a reflection on you or your ability, but frankly a retarded monkey with a concussion could have written a better report with his ass. I’d burn it, but I don’t want the stupid fumes to dumb down the rest of the office. I’d throw it out, but I don’t want to make the janitor stupid.”

  “To be fair, Jose is a pretty bright guy.”

  “The janitor’s name is Frank.”

  “That’s a weird name for a Mexican.”

  “He’s not Mexican. He’s a white guy.”

  “That can’t possibly be correct.”

  “Anyway, in the future, please try to be less of a dipshit. Any specific questions or things you’d like to go over?”

  “Well, if I did the whole thing wrong, maybe we could just go over what you were looking for more specifically.”

  “Sure. Tell you what. I’ve got one David wrote for me last week that was pretty good. I’ll give that one, and we’ll go over it. That should give you a good idea of what we’re looking for.”

  “Can you get one from somebody who’s a little less of a dick ass?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Man, this is going to suck some great gray donkey balls, Jacob thought as Steve exited the room. Fucking David. Oh, well, better bunker down and pay attention, or else I’m going to have to listen to more shit from King Douche. Maybe I can even finally figure out what exactly it
is this company does in the first place.

  Steve Mandick re-entered the room with a pompous stack of papers and pulled the chair around to Jacob’s side of the desk, sitting next to him like they were fucking friends or some shit. He started prit pratting on about how great David was and how perfect his report was while Jacob tried to pay attention instead of thinking about unicorns or ponies or whatever it is heterosexual men in their mid-twenties think about. He actually somehow managed to pay attention for the most part, in spite of his natural apathy and indifference, and so by the end of Steve Manshit’s oral praising of David’s fucking work he kind of knew what he was doing.

  “Alright, so any questions?” Steve asked in a tone that said, “What can I do to make you more like David?” Fucking David.

  “Yeah, actually,” Jacob said before the cherub of his dreams walked by his office on her way to the water cooler. His breath left him, his heart started to race, and seizing the opportunity to talk to her became his first and only priority. He stood there awestruck for a moment, staring at the object of his affection like a big gay homo before regaining his composure.

  Shut the fuck up. How the hell does wanting to talk to a beautiful woman make me a homo? Jacob thought, intentionally mischaracterizing the woman, who though plain, was still out of Jacob’s league. She’s not plain, she’s hot. You’re only calling her plain because you know they can’t see her, or else they’d agree with me. And apathy and indifference mean the same thing, dumbass.

  “Jacob?” Steve Manchu said, breaking up Jacob’s train of thought. “You said you had questions?”

  “Yes?” Jacob either said or asked. It was unclear which. Either way, he sounded like an idiot. Which he was. Go to hell, bitch. You have a small penis.

  “So, what are they?”

  “Oh, uh, no. No, I think I’m good.”

  “Are you sure?” Steve asked, astounded that anybody could be so stupid as to confuse the word yes with the word no. Even non-English speakers seem to get that, but that’s Jacob for you. A big steaming mound of dumb fuck.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Because you don’t seem sure, and I want to make sure you understand. Because your last report was really bad.”

  “I said I’ve got it.”

  “It was really bad. Reading it, I was amazed that the person who wrote it, that would be you, managed to breathe on his own, let alone feed himself and function in modern society. It was just baffling. I don’t think I could write a report that bad if I tried.”

  “Steve, I said I’ve got it. Now for fuck’s sake, go rape an octopus or something.”

  Steve left Jacob’s office and Jacob headed to the water cooler to get a drink. Or at least, act like he was getting a drink. We all know it was to have an excuse to bump into Brenda and talk to the woman who he was in love with despite being too much of a pussy to even talk to, since that’s the foundation of a healthy relationship.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Jacob said as he smoothly and deftly held his cup of water under the water jug, pouring himself a cup of water like the lady killer he was.

  “It’s going well, actually,” Brenda said, sipping her water and actually looking kind of cute, though I would never say so to Jacob. “How about yourself?”

  “Same,” Jacob said, carefully bringing the water cup to his mouth and taking a sip while trying to act like he hadn’t accidentally filled the cup too full. “Hey, you’re from Australia, right?”

  “Yup. What gave it away? The accent, or the fact that I’ve told you this before?”

  “Haha, no. I mean, I knew you were from Australia. I did know that.”

  “Then why’d you ask?”

  “Oh, well, I was wondering if you were into rugby. I thought that was popular over there.”

  “Um, a little bit. Why?” Brenda asked, looking Jacob over. “Do you play? You look like a rugby player.”

  “Um, thanks, but no,” Jacob said, unsure of whether ‘looking like a rugby player’ was a compliment or not. “No, I just think it’s an interesting sport. I probably would have played, you know in school, but my high school didn’t have a rugby program. It’s not all that popular in the States.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed. Actually, since I’ve been living in the States, I’ve grown rather fond of American football.”

  “Oh, American football, huh? What’s that?”

  “Uh, it’s football.”

  “Oh, football. Cool, cool.”

  “Yeah, you know, my little brother plays, so I started going to his pee wee games.”

  “Oh. Well that sounds like fun.”

  “No, not really,” Brenda said, shaking her head. “It’s pee wee, so it’s pretty terrible and boring. But it did get me interested in the sport at higher levels of competition, where the players actually know what they are doing.”

  “Cool, cool. So, where’s your brother play at?”

  “Um, it’s some local youth league. They mostly play at the local high school, um, I forget the name.”

  “Local High School?”

  “Oh, yeah, LHS. Yeah, they play down there on weekends.”

  A call for Brenda from down the hall interrupted their conversation as she excused herself to go actually do some work, something that Jacob wouldn’t understand, being the lazy fuck that he was. Jacob turned, walked back into his office, and sat down at his desk.

  Right, now to get started on this report, since I’m a productive, awesome member of society and not lazy in the least, Jacob thought as he opened the report he was preparing for Steve. Fuck, I don’t remember how to do these. Wait, I have the report I sent Steve last Thursday. I’ll just use that as a template.

  “How was your day, sir?” Reginald asked as Jacob entered his apartment that evening.

  “Shut up, Reginald,” Jacob said, opening the fridge and pouring himself something to drink. “Um, my day was alright, I guess. Got chewed out by my boss.”

  “For what, sir?”

  “Hmm. You know, I honestly don’t remember. Something I did, presumably.”

  “That seems like something you should be aware of, sir.”

  “Yeah, I know, right. Oh, well. No use worrying about things you can’t do anything about.”

  “Well, you could do something, sir. You could start paying attention when other people are talking.”

  “And you could shut the hell up, Reginald. Oh, and I need you to run an errand for me tomorrow.”

  “And what would that be, sir?”

  “I need you to pick me up some officiating gear. I’m going to referee a pee wee football game this weekend.”

  “Really, sir? Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “Of course it’s not wise, Reginald, it’s fucking ingenious.”

  “Something can be both wise and ingenious, sir. They aren’t mutually exclusive.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, of course it’s wise. It gives me something to do, and it gives me a chance to talk to Brenda. What isn’t ingenious about it?”

  “Well, first off, sir, you hate children.”

  “So? I’ll be penalizing them, not making them happy.”

  “Secondly, you know nothing about football, sir.”

  “I’ll make it up as I go along. For crying out loud, Reginald, they’re children. It’s not like they’re going to know the rules anyway.”

  “No, sir, but the parents and the coaches might.”

  Jacob shrugged. “Fuck ‘em.”

  Reginald sighed. “I suppose there isn’t any way I could talk you out of this, is there, sir?”

  “No, Reginald, my mind is made up.”

  “I’ll get your gear tomorrow, sir.”

  Chapter 11-Jacob Refs a Football Game.

  That Saturday, Jacob got up, donned the referee gear that Reginald had bought for him, and made his way down to the local high school. He looked around for somebody in charge of the little hooligans, and walked up to an older man wearing a referee outfit.

  “Excuse me, sir?�
� Jacob said, tapping the referee on the shoulder. “I’d like to officiate a football game, please.”

  “Sure. Thanks for helping out,” the referee said, looking at the clipboard he held in his hand. “And what’s your name?”

  “Jacob Stanton.”

  “Stanton, you said?” The ref asked, thumbing through the sheets of paper on his clipboard like a big numb nerdy zebra. “Hmm, I don’t seem to see you on the list. Are you new?”

  “Um, I guess. I’ve never done this before.”

  “Alright. Who did you talk to?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The referee gave Jacob a weird look, as if he’d just admitted that he was only there to diddle the kids. “When you called to sign up to officiate today, who did you talk to?”

  “Oh, I didn’t call, so I didn’t talk to anybody.”

  The referee chuckled a bit, but just a bit. You know, not too much. “So you just showed up and hoped to get assigned a game? Alright, if we get an opening, I’ll see what we can do, but we’ve already got the games booked. Because we plan these things in advance. So that we know we’ve got enough referees. Anyway, let me see your certification.”

  “What certification?”

  “Your refereeing certification,” the rather humorless referee said with a sigh and an unnecessary roll of his eyes. “The certificate you got when you got cleared to officiate pee wee games.”

  “Oh, I don’t have one.”

  The referee looked confused and shook his head. “What do you mean? You don’t have it with you, or you lost it?”

  “No, I mean I never got one.”

  “You’re not certified?”

  “I guess not.”

  “So, basically, you just bought a referee’s outfit, showed up here, and thought we’d let you officiate a game?”

  Jacob shrugged and nodded.

  “How the hell did you think that was going to work?” the referee said with an incredulous look on his face, indicating that he clearly did not know Jacob very well. Which was to be expected, since he’d literally just met him.