Gerard Butler, by Riley Richards
For my 27th birthday, the only present I want is to fight Gerard Butler, possibly to the death. Romantic music will play in the background, a playlist made special for this occasion, because he must be the reason I am unlucky in love. He will be confused the whole time. I know it will probably be my last birthday, but I tell him not to hold back. I need this. His deep voice and beard sound like a growling bear. He does not know how I got into his house. This will be a story about the triumph of the human spirit, of love winning out in the end. I do not hear his voice or his words, only a bear growling with a Scottish accent. Trash talking like a raccoon in a dumpster, I say, Are you an astronaut? Because you’re about to see stars. I say, Are you actually Justin Timberlake? Because you’re about to cry me a river. I say, Are you in the advanced stages of decomposition? Because you’re about to be fucking dead. I say, Oh wait, that’s your career. I am being intentionally hurtful. His tremendous muscles rip through the sleeves of his shirt. It is easy to picture him standing atop a small waterfall, catching salmon with his bear hands or in his bear mouth. My fist is a little bighorn ram with a jetpack. It is intent on its target like a kamikaze pilot. It breaks the sound barrier. It is hungry for blood. When my fist connects with his face, all the glass in the house shatters, an avalanche begins and kills dozens of skiers in the Swiss Alps, and millions of bats fall from the sky, deafened. Gerard Butler does not flinch. The flesh of his face ripples once like a sleepy pond. His whiskers sway like wheat in a breath of wind. I can sense my imminent death. He says something in bear language and disappears into another room. Moments later, he is back with two frosty beers. He gives me one, clasps my shoulder with his paw. He gives a little squeeze.
Riley Richards received an MFA in Poetry from Fairleigh-Dickinson University, taught Creative Writing and Political Writing at Uzhhorod National University in Uzhhorod, Ukraine, and is currently a PhD candidate at Florida State University. Riley’s writing has been published by Fugue, After Happy Hour Review, Hoot Review, and elsewhere.