"Mr. Brightside" by Jacob V

It was a small, boring town. It was a house upon a hill. It was an old man in his chair.

 The old man gazed out in the distance with a worn out frown on his face. The same frown had been on his face since 1975. His grass was dead, and his house was rotting. Boy, how he hated life. A noise in the driveway caught his attention. A milkman walked up and gave the old man a smile and waved. Boy, how he hated the milkman.

“Howdy-doo!” the milkman said with peculiar enthusiasm. “Here’s your delivery for the week. My oh my, it’s just golly good weather we’re having!” The old man glared and raised his middle finger. The milkman chuckled. “Betcha-by-golly-wow you sure are the best kidder in town!”

“You know, Ed,” the old man started saying, “maybe if you KNEW how to take a damn hint, your wife would KNOW how to be faithful!” The milkman looked puzzled.

“Gee-wiz you really are the best kidder! My old lady does love the Lord!” (Unbeknownst to the milkman, his wife had actually in fact, had multiple affairs).

“Say, I gotta get goin’ but I’ll sure as helicopters be back next week!” He walked down the driveway. All the while, Mr. O’neill just went back to his gazing.

After being startled by the sound of the milk truck engine, the old man looked up. “What a damn fool.” The smell of laundry blew down the street as the summer breeze picked up. Mr. O’Neil looked up the street and saw a woman on a mission. She was heading his way and was at the foot of his driveway.

“Good afternoon sir! I’m with the American Cancer Society, and I am looking for donations for cancer research so we can find a cure!” She gave him a million dollar smile and leaned her head to the right.

He shot daggers into her eyes. “What the hell have cancer people ever done for me?”

She looked startled. “Well it’s not so much what they’ve done for you but-”

“You can take that clipboard and shove it up your a** for all I care!” He stood up and pointed at her. “Now go on and scram!”

“Well you sir are just plain mean. Why can’t you just be a decent person?” She powerwalked back up the street in tears.

He went back to the usual gazing at nothing. In actuality, he was a Vietnam veteran who never got over the trauma and he bottled it all up and just blew up on everyone he came in contact with. His only lover had died giving birth to a daughter that ran away with a felon. He sat back down in his chair and fell right through it.

Liberatingly, he laughed.                                                        

It was a dry brittle laugh. It was a sunny day. It was a man smiling.

After years of bitterness and anger, he knew he was going to be okay.