The End of FUN

by Sean McGinty

  We knelt there for a long time, not saying anything, just looking for a sign of life. The bird didn’t move.

  > hi original boy_2!

  r you ready to have more FUN®?

  everyday reality is such a drag™!

  I scooped my hands under the bird, trying my best to keep the snow off. It was warm and soft, but the tiny eyes were closed and the head lolled as I cupped it in my palm.

  We brought it inside and I got a paper lunch sack—the same one that held Evie’s snickerdoodles. I poured out the crumbs and we slid the bird into the bag, folding the top neatly the way my sister used to when she packed my lunches.

  There. Now the bird was in a bag. I set it on the table.

  “And why did we just do that?” Katie asked.

  “I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to put them in a bag?”

  “Are you? And then what?”

  “I don’t know—we wait, I guess. Maybe it gets better?”

  We waited.

  > yay! for FUN®!

  yay! so many times!

  Katie got up and opened the bag and looked inside. She closed it again.

  “It isn’t moving,” she said.

  “We could bury it with the others.”

  “The others?” she said.

  “Yeah. We buried them by the tree.”

  “OK,” she said. “Fine. Let’s do that.”

  Snow lay in patches between the sagebrush, and as we neared the Russian olive the patches joined into an uninterrupted carpet of white. The tree threw its branches up toward the heavens like a call to prayer. Sunlight fell from the blue sky, but it was bitter cold out there. The wind came in icy blasts. Katie held her hair from her eyes.

  I’d remembered to bring a shovel along, but I’d forgotten gloves. As I dug, Homie™ told me about all the reasons for having FUN®. By the time I got done chipping out what you might call a hole, I couldn’t feel my fingers. I leaned against the shovel and looked down at the frozen ground. The little hole.

  > yay! for FUN® original boy_2?

  it’s the only way to be!

  “Hey!” Katie was grabbing my arm. “Look! The bag! It’s moving!”

  She was holding it away from her body, like it might explode in her hands. There was definitely something moving, all right. Knocking around at the paper walls.

  “What do I do?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Here! Take it!”

  And then I was holding the bag, doing no better than she had done. My fingers were frozen and I couldn’t get it unfolded, so finally I just tore open the bag and gave it a shake. The bird flopped onto a sagebrush, landing upside down in the snowy branches. As it struggled to right itself, all these questions flashed through my mind.

  Should I help it? Or would I just hurt it more? Does it have a concussion? Broken bones? Internal bleeding? Should we bring it back inside? What now? What next?

  But there wasn’t time. In a sudden flash of wings, the bird threw itself into the air. I’m serious. Just. Like. THAT. One second it was resting on the sagebrush, and the next it was airborne. Like magic. A resurrection. It was like, Go, little bird! Go!

  And then came the wind. This gust like you wouldn’t believe. Howling across the hills like a parade of demons, bending the sagebrush and blowing up clouds of dust. It slammed the bird and flung it eastward across the sky—I mean FLUNG it—but the bird battled back. I’m telling you, this thing was a fighter. But where was it going? And how was it going to get there? What’s the life expectancy of a little yellow bird in the high desert with winter coming on?

  “Wow,” said Katie.

  > yay or boo!?

  said Homie™.

  And this voice in my head, I don’t know where it came from—just out of the blue, I guess—it was like, Hey, man. This is holy. And I gave the questions a rest. I stood next to Katie and just watched the bird go. And let me tell you, that thing went. Angling this way and that, fighting the gusts, climbing higher and higher, growing smaller and smaller, the little bird pressed itself against the very edge of the sky until it was only a speck—yellow on blue—nothing at all and everything all at once. And then it disappeared.

  Tara, Cedar, Alison, Mom, Dad, Mark Baechtel, Jamie Baker, Eric Bassier, Jen Bedet, Marvin Bell, Laura Bergner, Ben Caldwell, Ethan Canin, Jen Carlson, Sarah Charukesnant, Jerritt Collord, Benji Conrad, Frank Conroy, Petrina Crockford, Everyone at DCL, Gloria Derado, Elizabeth Dobbs, Eric Eanes, Earth Mountain, ECN, ENG 121, Jason Enlow, Danielle Miles Forest, Justice Evans Forest, Travis George, Arrel Gray, Bobby Hogg, Everyone at Hyperion, Iowa, Michael Johnson, Mike Kath, Tracey Keevan, the kid with the white hair, Lori Klaus, Catherine Knepper, Dave Kosanke, Latuda Hall, Judy Lee, Lillian, Amy Maffei, Jesse McCaughey, Skyler McCaughey, Shaelan McDonough, Marilyn McGuire, Melissa Meiris, Ricardo Mejías, Everyone at MHCC, Justin Miles, Tracy Miles, Tamera Morton, John Paniagua, Puff, Chris & AJ Roe, Matt Roeser, the Rossolos, Tyler Sage, Kimberly Slagle, Cynthia Smith, Paula Smith, Edward Rowe Snow, Johnny & Joey Sousa, Trinidad, TSJC, TWSL, Zach Weinman, and everyone else.

  SEAN McGINTY is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He has worked as a newspaper reporter, farmer, and English instructor. He lives in Portland, Oregon, where he teaches reading and writing. The End of Fun is his debut novel. To learn more, visit supermagicfuntrip.com.