In Regards to Geoff Livingston:
It was a refreshing spring morning in the quiet podunk of Harrison, Nevada. It was the kind of town in which inhabitants would step out into the new morning, take in a deep breath of fresh air, and wave hello to their neighbor. It was from this sleepy hamlet that Geoff Livingston hailed. Geoff was a warm smile on a bad day. He was a helping hand when you’re just about to throw your hammer in anger, because seriously, fuck that birdhouse.
Sadly, Geoff always felt underappreciated. This can be traced easily and exclusively to the accomplishments of his older brother, Vic, who cured cancer. Yep, the big C, and I’m not talking about what you accidently called your girlfriend that one time in front of all her friends, who now think of you as an asshole. Feeling a tad cancery today? That’s ok, there’s a shot for that now. Is your mom worried about approaching that dangerous age for woman? BAM, one needle to the tit and problem solved.
But, as Geoff always said, enough about Vic already. Geoff had done some cool things, too. I mean, not cure goddamn cancer cool, but cool relative to the average schmuck. He used to be a fireman, who seem to be respected. A lot more respected than cops, for sure, and for obvious reasons #LegalizeIt. He had a beautiful wife, two wonderful kids, and Timmy. Timmy was what Geoff and his wife would call a happy surprise to his face and a disgusting accident behind his back. This kid could stimulate your gag reflex based solely on sight.
Regardless of minor familial infractions, Geoff was a stand up guy. Unlike Vic, whose wheelchair made him a sit down guy. Geoff told that joke once at a family function. It didn’t go over so hot. He earned a comfortable wage, enough to satisfy his wife. That’s something Vic could never do, given his paralysis. Yeah, Geoff told that joke too. Actually, you know what, Geoff is starting to sound like a dick. Let me try to tell it better. AHEM, starting over.
Geoff was your average dude, pretty chill– “No, no that sounds terrible.”
Geoff was a stand up– “Shit, no! Ugh!”
Geoff was…he’s…he..well, I mean he didn’t cured cancer, but–”Oh fuck it”–, just hire him.
Signed,
David Livingston
“Dad?”
“Yes, Geoff?”
“This is the worst letter of recommendation ever put to paper.”
“I know, son.”
“Why don’t you at least try to fix it?”
“Because son, your brother cured cancer; you’ll get the job.”
“….Goddamn it.”
-William Best, Contributor