Cue Bull

Cue Bull, A Short Story | © 2014 Dan Absalonson

After spending an entire day hauling stuff off to the dump, it took us three full truck loads to vacate my late father's house of junk, it was just me and the bull. For as long as I can remember my dad had a life size bull statue hogging up one corner of his basement. It was never in the way when we shot pool down there, but think of the books he could have stored. At least two fat bookcases could have sat in its place, but books were never really Dad's thing.

"How am I going to sell this?" I said to no one as I stood alone in Dad's barren house. It looked so different with all the clutter gone and the few things worth anything stacked in piles for the estate sale. My brothers had gone back to their families in neighboring towns. I had never moved more than a short drive away from the old man. I would come over a few times a week after work and shoot pool with him in his basement. I told myself I was doing it for him so he wouldn't be lonely in that big house with mom gone, but I think it was for me. Mom and I had been real close, and with her gone I felt very alone. I always had gotten along just fine with Dad but he never let me in if you know what I mean. That changed when mom died and he and I became each other's person.

I've had girlfriends, but none of them stuck around for too long. I guess I'm not really a desirable mate. I could never say without a doubt that yes you're the one and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I've gotten used to living alone and at my age, I've come to accept that ship has sailed. Bon voyage, c'est la vie.

I was driving a rented moving van with the bull wrapped up in the back. I parked in front of my favorite coffee shop, opened the back of the van, snapped a photo of the thing with my phone, closed the door and went inside. Once my order was in hand I sunk into an armchair, letting its soft fabric pull me in. I blew out my breath, lifted the cup to my nose, and inhaled deeply. That helped. The smell of coffee had always worked magic on my mood. I took that first sip, always the best, then placed my coffee on the little table next to me and pulled out my phone.

The fastest way to get rid of this thing would be online. I listed the bull adding the picture of him wrapped up in the van. I thumbed a brief description, returned my phone to my pocket, and sank back into the chair. I picked up my coffee and held the hot cup letting its warmth seep into my bones. I finished it one slow sip at a time. I was about to get up to fetch another cup when my phone beeped. I had received an email.

Hi!

I'm very interested in your bull! Can I meet you somewhere today and see it? How much do you want for it?

Thanks!

-Frankie

Hmm. Frankie. That sounded like the name of a guy who would buy a bull statue. I pictured him as a hunter or maybe the owner of a bar or something. I sent a quick response.

Hi Frankie,

I'd be happy to meet you anywhere. It's already in the back of a van I rented so I'd be happy to come to you. I'll even help you unload it. As far as price I have no idea. I think it's worth a few hundred bucks but if you make an offer I'm sure we can work something out.

- George

I got up and ordered another coffee, this time to go. When the barista handed it to me my phone beeped again. I pulled it out, took a sip, and read my new email.

George,

Sounds great. I'm good with $300 if that works for you, and thank you for coming to me. I'm at Rigby's on 5th and Hansard. It's a bar. The bull is going inside as a decorative piece. I'm excited to see it set up.

Thanks,

Frankie

So he did work at a bar. I knew where it was but had never been inside. I hopped in the van, buckled up, and sent a reply before pulling onto the road.