Feb Sucks It Mustve Been Love 01

Everyone seems to have a love-hate relationship with George Anderson's "February Sucks" and its subsequent sequels and spin-offs. Was his premise somewhat far-fetched? Yes, but I'm sure it probably happened somewhere and will likely happen again.

After a prologue with the back story of the erstwhile Milwaukee Sharks, and some background on the MC, Jim Carlson, my take opens with Jim's departure from Morrison's nightclub after Linda has made good her escape. The characters are the same as in the original except everyone is a little older--Jim and Linda are approaching their 15th Anniversary.

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February Sucks--It Must Have Been Love...

...But It's Over Now Part 1

"And it's a hard winter's day, I dream away...It must have been love, but it's over now. It must have been good, but I lost it somehow." --"Roxette" 1987

PROLOGUE

The Milwaukee Sharks were undoubtedly the biggest mistake in NFL history--at least since the 1952 Dallas Texans. In three seasons in the NFL, the Sharks had only won two games, and those were both in their first season. This set a new NFL record--two consecutive winless seasons.

But it was more than the lackluster play on the field that made Milwaukeeans unable to warm up to the new team. Milwaukee already had a "home team" -- the Green Bay Packers. There was no room in this corner of the Midwest for an AFC expansion team. A new head coach, their fourth so far, had just come on board along with a new General Manager and they were looking to make some off-season trades.

Jim Carlson was putting on his mike for his 4:00 pm newscast on the local ABC-TV affiliate. In the last 14 years, Jim had become a familiar face and voice in Milwaukee. In addition to his regular anchor spot, the station relied on his cool, calm, and authoritative voice whenever there was a major story that had to break into regular programming. He was at the top of his game and had three local Emmys on his shelf to show for it.

Jim Carlson was proud of being a "broadcaster." From the time he was given a six transistor radio--that he hid under the pillow at night to listen to far away AM stations--he knew the only place he wanted to be was "on the air." He was a native Southern Californian and got his start in radio while he was still working on his BA in journalism at USC. He started announcing classical music on KUSC-FM and during his senior year and for a year after graduation, he was a news, weather and traffic reporter for several local radio stations.

He loved California and probably would have stayed forever but Tuesday, September 11, 2001 changed things. That morning he was doing "traffic and weather together" for an AM talk station, an oldies FM and a country western station in the Inland Empire. Jim and the other reporters were watching the monitors and wire services as the reports of the first plane hitting the World Trade Center came in. Every station soon wanted special reports and even music stations that never carried news suddenly were going "All News, All the Time." He didn't clock out until well after midnight, and he had to be back on air at 5:00 am. After his shift on Thursday, Jim stopped by the armed forces recruiting office and enlisted in the U.S. Army.

After 4 years active duty, including time in Germany and one tour in Afghanistan, Jim transferred to the reserves and decided to get his MA degree. While he had been stationed overseas, his dad, who was the brew master for one of the big national breweries was transferred to the home brewery in Milwaukee, so when Jim left active duty, he enrolled in the graduate journalism program at Marquette. He soon found he liked Milwaukee. He also soon found that he loved a certain undergraduate education major named Linda McKenzie. It wasn't long before they were Mr. and Mrs. Carlson. After finishing his graduate degree, Jim had his first TV job in Milwaukee covering city hall, police headquarters and the downtown courthouse. Two years later he was an anchor on the city's top rated local newscast.

It's hard to forget the times a TV or radio announcer would start off with those four chilling words, "We interrupt this program..." John Charles Daily reporting for CBS radio on a Sunday morning that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor; Walter Cronkite announcing that the President had been shot in Dallas; Charles Gibson, already on air on Good Morning America describing the 767 crashing into the second tower...all sounds of America's history that won't be forgotten until the last recording wears out.

Most of the time though, day-to-day news is fairly mundane. When we hear it we do not always realize or understand how it might affect our lives. When Jim made the toss to his sports reporter during his newscast on April 12th, he had no way of knowing that he would become part of this story in a little less than a year...

"It looks like the rumors about a Sharks trade with the Carolina Panthers for Heisman trophy winning tight end Marc LaValliere are true...with more on that announcement, and all the sports news today, here's Tom Delano. Tom..."

AFTER THE SEDUCTION...

(The story picks up from George Anderson's original with Jim walking back to the Madison Hotel from Morrison's, after he discovers that Linda is not returning from the ladies' room and instead snuck out the backdoor with Marc LaValliere.)

Jim must have looked like something from the "Walking Dead" as he made his way to the Madison hotel. The elevator ride up to the top floor felt as long as a cross-country flight. Then a walk down the hall to what was supposed to be their room -- a full corner suite with a view of the city.

"I'm in luck--twenty floors up and I have one of the only rooms in the hotel with a sliding glass door and a balcony," Jim said to himself. "I could just go out and jump over the railing, but with my luck tonight, I would survive the fall only to be a brain injured quadriplegic. I wonder if Linda and that asshole would visit me on Sundays at my board and care facility?"

Jim packed his shaving kit and his clothes back in his suitcase. Linda had laid out an expensive bra, panty and garter belt set on the bed. He thought about pissing on them and throwing all of it out in the trash, but realized while Linda deserved that treatment, the maids didn't. He left a note for housekeeping that the lingerie was brand new and anyone was welcome to them. He decided to leave Linda's suitcase in the room as well. He could care less about her stuff. He thought to himself, "Kind of like how Linda could care less about me."

Never mind the embarrassment, humiliation and betrayal that Linda, with assistance from Dee and encouragement from the rest of their so-called friends just heaped on him, what really hit Jim was that he had never felt so weak, so sad and so alone. Four years in the Army and 18 years as a broadcaster and he thought he had seen everything. He had seen almost everything, but as a reporter, on the outside, looking in. You tell the story, and even if it's a tragedy, you compartmentalize...and keep your emotions out of it. Now, Jim found himself smack dab in the middle of this story -- HIS very personal story -- and it was an uncomfortable place to be. For almost 15 years, it's always been "Jim AND Linda's story." Tonight, Jim is on the outside, looking in as Linda writes her own story--without him.

This suite at the Madison set him back a few bucks, but Jim had felt the splurge would be worth every penny. Linda had been tense, aloof and not herself for most of the month. She had developed a real short fuse and lately complained about anything and everything. And anything and everything was almost always Jim's fault. But lately Linda was acting a little happier and was looking forward to this weekend. Jim hoped that he and Linda were finally going to reconnect after this difficult month of February. Their 15th Anniversary was coming up in June and Jim had arranged a trip of a lifetime to Hawaii and he was looking forward to sharing the surprise and all the fun details with Linda while they enjoyed their weekend getaway. Now, sitting on the king bed they were supposed to share, Jim wondered if she would return to the room tomorrow, or maybe come to her senses and come back tonight, crying and asking for forgiveness. Jim asked himself, "Should I wait here or leave?" All of a sudden it dawned on him that he no longer had to think about what Linda wanted or what Linda needed. Whatever her needs, they are not his problem tonight. Maybe they won't be ever again.

"Shit, this is bad! Even in Afghanistan, enemy fire, guys going down, I kept my cool, followed my training almost on autopilot--I knew what to do to keep going, complete the mission and survive. Tonight, I don't have a plan and I sure as hell have no training to tell me what to do! I could go home, get my Glock and drive out to Asshole's house -- I'm sure we have his address and probably his gate code in our "deep background" files at the studio. But then what?

"If Asshole took one menacing step toward me, I would shoot to kill and take the bet that a self-defense plea would keep me

"I could leave the gun at home and just take on Asshole, mano-a-mano. I've got a few moves the Army taught me, but with his sheer bulk, I could be in real trouble. I would be in his house and his home territory and he probably has a gun hand. Besides the bruises and maybe a broken nose, losing to Asshole would generate no sympathy from Linda. It really wouldn't matter whether I won or lost the fight, I would be down another peg or two in her eyes no matter what.

"I did a story once about real Voodoo curses you could buy online. I could put one on Asshole, one on Linda, and if they have a buy-two-get-one-free special, I'll put one on Dee too."

In the end, it wasn't such a difficult decision. Jim could not do anything at the Madison, but he made a mental list of things he needed to do right away, so he grabbed his bag, checked out and decided to head home.

Starting his SUV, the oldies station was still turned up loud. On the drive over earlier in the evening, Jim and Linda had fun singing along with some of their favorites. Now, Jim couldn't take the happy music and was about to switch over to news when a classic hit from Roxette came on. "...It must have been love, but it's over now. It was all that I wanted, now I'm living without..." He had to pull over for a few minutes. The pain in his chest had become unbearable. He was pretty sure it wasn't a full-blown heart attack but the feeling of his heart finally breaking. Most people saw Jim as a pretty strong guy who would be hard to break. But right now he wished he could just cry. He was sad, miserable and practically lost, but the relief of tears just wouldn't come.

Finally, driving into their neighborhood, Jim thought about the kids. Emma was 14 and just started high school; Tommy was 12 and in middle school. Funny he should think of them -- he didn't think Linda is thinking about them one bit. They were spending the weekend with Jim's mom and dad and the plan was for them to meet at church Sunday morning and then have breakfast together after the service. Jim thought it was lucky his kids won't be around to witness the fireworks when (or if) Linda finally returns home.

Right after Linda left Morrison's with LaValliere, Dee tried in vain to smooth things over, saying that Linda would return home on Saturday so that Jim could "reclaim" her. She was insistent that this was an extraordinary, one-time thing. "Just one night out of your whole lives," she called it. The kicker was that Jim was just supposed to accept, forgive, condone and forget -- accept the betrayal, forgive Linda, condone the stunt that Linda and all of their "friends" got away with, and forget it ever happened. Jim knew he could not come around to accept it like Dee and evidently Linda, thought he would. There was no way in hell he could condone what everyone did to him. Maybe, after spending thousands of dollars in therapy, he could forgive Linda, but he would never be able to forget what she pulled.

But the more Jim thought about it, the big problem wouldn't be if HE could forget this night. The question was whether LINDA could ever forget tonight? "She might say, 'I'm sorry I hurt you,' all day long, but at night when we are making love, who will she think of? One night when she is cumming, will she yell, 'Oh, yeah, fuck me Marc?' After they drift off to sleep, will she be dreaming of Marc, fantasizing that it was him beside her and his cum dripping out of her?"

Jim knows it's not just "one night," out of thousands in their marriage. Like Pearl Harbor was just another Sunday morning in Hawaii. Like 9-11 was a run-of-the-mill Tuesday. Life is made up of "just one days" and some are the "just one days" when real shit happens.

"Yeah, tonight is just ONE night," Jim thought out loud, " but for me it's THE night when EVERYTHING in my life went down in flames, and my life will NOT be the same when Linda comes back, no matter what kind of spin she tries to put on it. If Linda gets away with it -- no, if I LET her get away with it -- if tonight becomes her 'Night of Golden Memories,' even if we stay together, the marriage will be downhill all the way."

Jim thought, "Linda and Dee seem to think that this is all OK because Asshole is a big football star and that makes this a 'once in a lifetime' event for Linda. Maybe she takes me for granted because I was just a regular guy when we met and whatever status I have now came about gradually since we have been together. But more people in this city would recognize me if we crossed paths at Costco than they would recognize the great, the omnipotent, the all-powerful Marc 'Asshole' LaValliere. Give me a break! All those millions the Sharks forked over for him and this last season, nothing. Not that much yardage and not a single win. Of course, he was out two games with that infected hangnail.

"He's got a Heisman? Big fucking deal, I've got three Emmys! He's big and black, probably with a gynormous cock and the swagger and self-confidence that comes with it, but where will he be when he gets traded again? I don't buy into the whole 'fame' angle. Hell, being in the NFL shouldn't make Linda all star-struck. My Uncle Frank played four seasons for the 49ers and another three for the Packers. There were always a bunch of well-known players whenever Uncle Frank threw a barbecue during the off-season. Linda has met a lot of them with bigger names and big Super Bowl rings on their hands and she didn't go nuts like this.

"There is more to this whole crappy deal. There is some deep-seated, sick reason she just had to heap this humiliation on me, and it's more than a pretty face, some muscles and that obnoxious smirk. Was she a size queen and I didn't know it? Was she always looking around for BBC and I never picked up on that either?

"They must have finished round one by now and who knows what is next? Linda has never let me have her ass, but I'd bet even money that she'll be lubing that up for him tonight," Jim thought.

Just then he got a Face Time call from an unknown number. He wouldn't normally answer, but had a hunch where it was coming from. He answered and hit record. It's LaValliere yelling. "Hey cucky!" In the background, Jim can hear Linda's voice, "Please don't call Jim that." LaValliere continued, "Your wife has the hottest pussy I've ever fucked, she sucks like a Dyson and right now I'm lining up to tap that tight back door! Let me turn the camera around -- look at that load all over her face -- I shot so much cum man -- it's dripping off her wedding rings! Doesn't that look pretty?"

Linda's voice popped up again, "Jim, I can't wait to get home so I can teach you some of Marc's tricks! I just knew this would be good for both you and me. It's just one night, sweetie and I'll be back tomorrow and you can reclaim me right away. Marc says he will send me home with some of his coke too. I never imagined how it could make me cum so hard over and over." The call ended with a few more snide zingers from Marc and something unintelligible from Linda. Jim started to tell Linda where she could shove Asshole's coke, but the line disconnected. If blood could actually boil, Jim would be picking up a full head of steam right now.

"Just one night my ass!" Jim yelled at the phone even though the call had dropped. "Screw you Linda, and Asshole, and Dee, and Dave and Jane and Phil and the rest of them too! This 'one night' is going to make the rest of my life a fucking nightmare! This has to stop right now and Linda needs to get her ass out of his damn bed and her fucking brain out of La La Land. I'm going to 'help' her understand EXACTLY what her 'just one night' is going to mean to us starting right now."

Jim called Linda's cell, but it went straight to voicemail. But he had a trick. A few months ago he installed an emergency app on both of their phones and made himself an "emergency contact" on Linda's phone. Even if her phone is off, or just has the ringer turned off, by calling her and pushing the "emergency call" button, her phone will light up with a high pitched sound like a smoke alarm, and the only way to turn it off is to answer the call or take out the battery.

He set up the emergency call and when LaValliere answered, Jim yelled, "Put my wife on the phone NOW, asshole!

"She's can't talk right now, Ace. Her mouth is kinda' full, ha ha."

The emergency app had another feature that could come in handy if you were buried under rubble in an earthquake or tornado -- you could turn on an even louder and piercing sound as a homing beacon, which Jim fired up.

"Stop, stop," Jim could hear.

"Hand the slut the phone NOW, asshole!"

"Hi, Jim."

"Are you Linda McKenzie Carlson?"

"You know I am."

"Do I? Really? Do you have a reservation for the penthouse suite at the Madison Hotel this evening?"

"We...yes we did...but..."

"Then why are you not in the penthouse suite at the Madison as we speak?"

Jim didn't give Linda a chance to answer. "Do you reside at 11942 Northwood Lane?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why the fuck are you not at 11942 Northwood Lane?"

"You know why, Jim...don't worry. It's just sex -- the most fantastic sex I've ever had -- but I'll be back tomorrow and we will have the rest of our lives together!"

"Can't say being with YOU for the rest of my life looks like that great a deal right now, SLUT!"

"Don't say those things, Jim."

"Quit acting like one and I'll stop saying it. Don't forget, I'm a reporter. I look for the truth and right now you ARE a slut, with a stretched out, leaking cunt, and I don't know if I ever want you back or not -- the jury's out on this one."

"Oh, you'll be all over your little snit tomorrow when I let you reclaim me! Marc says I have nothing to worry about, and it will all work out when I come home. You and I are meant to be together forever, Jim."

"Why aren't we together right now, SKANK?

"Honey, you know why."

"Don't you EVER call me anything but "Jim," until I tell you otherwise. To make it fair, I won't be calling you anything besides "Linda" from now on either. Well, except for SLUT, BITCH, CUNT, WHORE, SKANK, CRONE, HAG and TWAT!"

"That's not very...nice." Jim could hear the crack in her voice this time.

"Let's not talk about being NICE, shall we? BITCH! Do you have any idea how much damage you have done to our marriage and to me personally? I don't think we can fix this."

"I'm sorry that this is upsetting to you, Jim...I love you, you know that."

"I do? Kinda' hard to tell that tonight! And you are 'sorry' that this is upsetting to me. But you are sure as hell not sorry for taking off and fucking Asshole, are you? Under the circumstances, that is the most pompous, self-serving line of crap I have ever heard come out of your mouth! That mouth has been sucking on a vile and filthy cock the last few hours, so I don't want to speak as to its overall credibility. And I could give a flying fuck if any of this truth is upsetting to you!"