Kevin Blogged - Part IV

Larry’s Dead

Chapter I – Kevin Blogged
Chapter II – Tall Brad
Chapter III – A Mysterious Malaysian
Chapter IV - A Hairy Swede

Note, any similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

Erik watched Ming drop his cupcake into the trash bin and sit down to do his CDFFL picks. Christ, he hadn’t done his damn picks in weeks, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now – it was as lost a cause as could be imagined. He tugged on a few stray whiskers and pondered the tableaux more carefully, abruptly noting that his beard just didn’t seem as full and luxurious as it had in the past - come to think of it, all of his hair had been getting shorter and it wasn’t just because he was getting older or trying to relive those sleek and hairless glory days as a Fergus Otter, it was that he was actually cutting it shorter and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up some short-haired, beardless, patent-leather shoed stiff, hunched over a pile of outdated, undecipherable usage stats and C# internationalization code, and if that day ever came, well…What the hell was Brad up to? Why was there blood in the walkway? How was he going to wish Larry a happy birthday and poach an illicit cupcake if Brad was standing there like some sort of accusing goal post? If he couldn’t make his money back on CDFFL, he was damn sure going to get it back in bogarted food – that was just the way of the dog. He had a boiler and new insulation to pay for and that meant finding free breakfast was the rule.
“Erik,” Brad nodded, looking at Ming in something that could only be akin to inscrutability. Ming harrumphed from deep in his cube and pounded more noisily on his keyboard.
“Brad,” Erik acknowledged. “Come for a cupcake?”
“What? Oh. No. I’m not on the birthday list.”
“Score!” thought Erik, reaching for a Santa-topped confection. With an abrupt halt, he looked up sharply at Brad and gestured under the adjustable desktop. “Brad. Is that Larry?”
“Could be,” replied Brad, trying to push the body further under the desk, and instead tipping over Larry’s trash can and knocking his coffee cup to the floor, where it landed with a reproachful thunk.
Erik looked at the coffee cup, then at Larry, then back at Brad.
“Larry leave you the $20 I won in CDFFL this season? I’ve been pulling down the points with Fred Taylor and Stephen Alexander, you know.”
“Huh. Oh, sure.” Brad dug in his wallet and handed Erik a slightly crumpled Jackson.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Oh,” Brad seemed to come to for a second, “But there’s another week of play, so maybe…” he trailed off.
“I think the season is over.” Erik grabbed another cupcake, snowflake-topped, and pointed it at Brad, “Larry’s. He’s out today.”