Slow to Grow

by Lonny Cyrelle

  Chapter 13

  For the summer, his dad had secured him an internship at one of the local tv stations in Chicago. He was going to be an intern working for the sports anchormen. It would not be the first time his father helped him secure a job. It was a prime gig and someone with more wherewithal would have parlayed it into something more. But Lloyd was the holder of the Championship belt in underachieving and he did no more than what was expected. It was also not the first time that he would not exactly put forth a full effort. I believe the proper term was being pro-active, something he was allergic too. A lack of pro-action appeared to be his modus operandi across all aspects of his life.

  He would come in each night and watch sporting events, and notate when exciting plays had occurred. The producers would then take those notes and edit the games and show the highlights on the sportscasts. He met some cool people, and it was a good resume filler, but he did not capitalize on what could have been a good stepping stone to his career.

  He was grateful for his dad=s help, but felt guilty that he never capitalized on it. His father was trying to give him a good start, and it never hurt getting breaks. But Lloyd was too lazy to bother trying harder.

  His dad=s was turning 50 and the party was going to be held at their house on July 4th. He had a lot of friends and they were all invited to the house for the party. When the guests started arriving they parked on the street and inevitably some had to unbelievable temerity to park in front of Mitnek=s house, which was a public street. Of course he was courteous as always as he came exploding out of the house like the Mike Ditka clone that he was, and started hurling antisemitic epithets at the top of his lungs. AYou fucking Jew and your fucking long nose Jew friends are impeding my LIFE!!!@ It made no sense, as usual, and his only recourse was to pull his van out of the own driveway and park it in the Kulligan=s. He then got out his leafblower, placed it on the ground and let it blare right into the backyard where the festivities were being held. Nathan Kulligan kindly excused himself from the party, strolled over to Mitnek and in a very quiet, but controlled voice, told him to move his fucking van, turn off his fucking leafblower and go into his fucking house like the fucking worthless cockroach that he was. He also casually mentioned that if he did not, he was going to take his keys and scratch it from the hood of the van, over the roof and to the trunk. Nathan Kulligan was not a man to trifle with. Mitnek=s face turned bright purple and liked a trapped skunk he shot back with his vile stank. He told Nathan that he knew that Merrill Kulligan was fucking the mailman. Nathan calmly assured Mitnek once again to go back into his house and worry about beating his own wife and not spoil this party. None of the guests knew what was transpiring and Mitnek quietly moved the van and went back into the house.

  Nathan told Lloyd about the confrontation and Lloyd=s pride in his father, which was always immense, swelled. Lloyd related the story to Steve, who was there, and was already amused by the fact that the Kulligans had catered Chinese food for a Fourth of July Party. Lloyd was ranting about Mitnek this and Mitnek that, and Steve finally realized that the guy=s name was really Mitnek. Lloyd had been blathering about him for years, and Steve just assumed Mitnek was a Yiddish word for prick faced asshole. If it wasn=t, it should be, Lloyd replied.