A Story of a Man Named BRADY

A Story of a Man Named BRADY

Mr. Brady had been working late these last few weeks. Later then he cared to admit. Mr. Brady woke up, showered, quickly scanned thru the newspaper, and barely had enough time to throw a cup of coffee down his throat before he was out on the road going to work. Mr. Brady left precisely at 7am every morning & did not return until 7pm or later some nights. His architectural firm landed a huge contract to design a mall close to home. Since his firm had such high respect for Mr. Brady's work & he was such a key player in brokering the deal, his firm bestowed upon him the honor of project manager. Mr. Brady was hands on with everything. From what company he would select for the buildings steel girders , to what faucet setting would be used in the women's rest room. The timetable set for completion of the mall was set before Columbus Day so it could be open for holiday shopping. This is why he was late...everyday for months.

So when Mr. Brady came home one night & innocently heard of Alice boasting of her game winning touchdown pass to Bobby, he was shocked. The boys seemed to recount her Herculean efforts with much enthusiasm.
Was Alice standing in as quarterback?
Getting in a 3 point stance & getting grass stains from playing football with the boys?

His boys?

His mind, from stress at work, suddenly snapped. He crept into the house slowly. Mr. Brady peered around the corner, spying on Alice like a top level predator sizing up its prey. Mr. Brady popped just enough of his head around the corner so that only half of his face was showing. Mr. Brady stood motionless as he scanned her. There she stood at the island in the kitchen chopping vegetables for tonight's salad.

"Thick trunks for legs. Wide hips. Built powerfully on her lower half", he groaned out in a machine like voice as his thoughts came to him. "I'll have to attack her higher. Cut her down from the top like a woodsman would a giant Redwood" he mumbled.

5...4...3...2...1... the alarm in his head sounded. In a flash, Mr. Brady was off and bolted from his hiding spot behind the corner.

Mr. Brady was leaning forward as he ran, a freight train out of control, barreling off the tracks. It was such a terribly loud roar he made as he screamed speeding towards her. Mr. Brady's feet thundered across the tile floor shaking the room. Running with reckless abandon, clomping his feet like a horse in an all out gallop. Mr. Brady drove his shoulder into the small of Alice's back and exploded into her with merciless ferocity. The blow shot Alice across the kitchen, sending the bowl of chopped vegetables she was holding into the air. As the carrots, cucumbers, and onions came raining down upon them both in slow motion, she looked up at him smiling down at her just before she lost consciousness.

"That's how you deliver a hit. How you finish off the ball carrier. Hit and drive, HIT AND DRIVE!", he snarled . These were the words the guards said he kept repeating to himself over and over. It would be a long time before Mr. Brady would leave his cell. He wasn't lonely because the cheer of the crowd in his head kept him company. That made him smile.

The End

A Story of a Man Named BRADY