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A (somewhat) short and tragic tale
#1
A short story by Brimey

Mike Brown is sitting in his office at PBS. His secretary buzzes to his desk. "Mr Brown? Coach Lewis is here."

"Send him in"

Marvin Lewis enters looking drawn and tired. "Mike, I know why you brought me in here today and-", Lewis begins before being cut off.

"So you're ready to sign?", Brown replies.

"Sign...sign what?"

"Your extension!"

"But...we went 6-10? There were 22,000 people at the stadium at our last home game? We set the record for worst defense in league history and I personally took that defense over.."

"You know coach, I was a little undecided on bringing you back if I'm to be honest. But when I watched this team come from behind to beat a legendary franchise like the Raiders here at PBS...I knew we were close"

"Mike, I've decided to offer my resignation. The game has passed me by and-"

The secretary buzzes in. "Mr Brown? I have that very important information you asked for."

" I'm listening"

"The concessions department reported we were 31 hot dogs short on inventory compared to our sales for the year. So we have 31 unaccounted for hot dogs missing"

Mr Brown pounds his fist off his desk. "Unacceptable! Where the hell did those hot dogs go?!? Since when do hot dogs just up and walk away! I want a full investigation. Someone is stealing our damn hot dogs!"

Marvin tries to helpfully interject. "Maybe concession staff dropped some and had to throw them away?"

"Dropped some? Unacceptable! Mrs Secretary please put out a notice saying any employee dropping any concession items is subject to immediate termination! Also, bring in that Cody Core extension offer. I'd like Coach Lewis to look it over"

Mr Brown looks towards the head coach and sees his chair is empty. Where Marvin sat, there is now a sheet of paper on the desk. Mike puts on his glasses and begins to read.

"Resignation? After an inspiring ending to the year like that? What a quitter. I don't want him here anymore than I wanted Palmer or Dillion or Pickens with that attutude. Secretary, get me Mr Bienemey on the line"

Mike picks up the phone. " Hello? Eric? Hey it's Mike Brown. I'm doing great thanks for asking. Say, I really like what you did with the Kansas City offense. Inspiring stuff. I'd like you to come to Cincinnati and bring that style here. You'd be interested? Great! What's that? No we fixed the jockstrap issue. I spared no expense! So I have a contract here if you can get on a plane to Cincinnati ASAP. I'm really looking forward to working with you Eric! You as the coach, me as the GM getting you elite talent...I really foresee..... Hello? You there? Hello?"

Mike tells his secretary to call the Chiefs OC back. The phone goes straight to voicemail. "You have reached the voicemail of Eric Bienemey. I will return your call unless you're the owner of a team who also thinks he's a GM. Thank you. BEEP." Mike slams the phone back down in the cradle furiously, not realizing that a owner in Dallas had done the same thing ten minutes prior.

Mike sits thoughtfully in his office. He works on a Sudoku puzzle. He watches a rerun of Murder She Wrote. He takes a short nap...and then.... inspiration. He jumps out of his chair and fumbles for his phone. No, he can't trust a secretary on this one. Can't be any mistakes. He needs to do this himself. He dials the number quickly, trying to be precise. Time is of the essence. He needs to be first. The phone rings. A familiar voice on the other end responds "Hello?

Excitedly Mr Brown shouts into the phone, "Hue, tell me you can be the next head coach here and someone hasn't snagged you up yet!

Hue Jackson responds confusedly, "No...no I'm still available. In fact I haven't even had a single call-"

"Perfect!", Mr Brown interjects. "Get to PBS immediately!"

3 hours later the Mike sits in his office alone. The sun has gone down and the downtown Cincinnati skyline is in view.  A grateful city will soon be celebrating to the tremendous news. It's a new and exciting day. Soon the season ticket orders will be pouring in. Mr Brown flips on a radio to listen to hear if the news has broke yet in the local media. Drats, the secretary must have been listening to the radio in here. It's on FM. The last few lines of the Who's 1971 classic "Won't Get Fooled Again" are playing. Mr Brown fumbles with the dial as Roger Daltrey sings the song towards it's conclusion.

"Then I'll get on my knees and pray
We don't get fooled again
Don't get fooled again
No, no!

Meet the new boss
Same as the old boss"

Mr Brown flicks the dial to 700 AM radio. "Drats! I hate that new fangled rolling rock or whatever these hippies are listening to!"

The radio announces they have breaking news from the Bengals front office after the break. Mr Brown leans back in his chair triumphantly. It's good to be the King
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