The Love Surgery with Alan Shearer

I sat drinking Coffee, watching Match of the Day on repeat; the one I’d missed from the weekend. Football wasn’t all that important to me; I kept up with the leagues for pub banter’s sake. The drinking crowd had been debating the masterpiece of a goal scored by Rooney, which I’d missed and in doing so it had left me feeling impoverished in some way. Some part of me was left explicitly empty, so by watching the goal on repeat I thought that I could make myself whole again or there-about.

The goal was indeed good, an over-head kick, which appeared a feat of acrobatics beyond the player himself. Former Newcastle United captain Alan Shearer commentated over the clip; with a Northern brogue that I felt would be best enjoyed with a pie or a beer. Neither of which I had as pay day was not for a few days. This aside, even after watching the masterpiece of a goal, I still felt explicitly empty.

Maybe I was just under-the-weather today perhaps that is why I had booked the day off work. It was Monday, so maybe it was more the allure of a long weekend, but I couldn’t recall which of the two reasons had led to me book a day off from filling baguettes for the undeserving office crowd. Perhaps by taking an afternoon shower I would be left feeling more whole than I had been.

The water gushed out of the shower, SSSSSSSSSSSSSS! Like a snake recorded played on loop. It is said that the afternoon shower is more about therapy than about cleanliness. I dried myself, shaved and set about returning to the T.V for the rest of Match of the Day.

When I opened the bathroom door, I was confronted by a small man dressed in a loincloth sitting in my place on the sofa, a tiny bow rested against the arm of the chair near him. He sat holding my coffee mug, sipping away with a smile whilst watching the remainder of Match of the Day. For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine how he’d got there. It was mid-February so naturally all the windows were closed to keep the heat in and due to the fact that my apartment was in a less than desirable neighbourhood, the front door was always left locked.

“Excuse me, what are you doing here?” I asked the small man.

“Sitting” He replied; turning to look at me with his blue eyes and golden lockes. “But that’s not the only reason why…”

“Look” I interrupted, “I’m not interested in double glazing or converting to a questionably obscure religion. I don’t know how you got here, but could you please leave.”

“Well I never” The small man replied, “I’m here neither offering windows or the latest religious trend, I’m here to give you a check up, as it were.”

“Are you a Doctor then?” I said with a patronizing tone.

“No, well of sorts, I guess.” The small man replied “A love doctor.”

“I’m sure you are, everybody is something nowadays aren’t they?”

“I’m here to check on your heart.” The small man said, as he stood up off the sofa.
“There’s nothing wrong with my heart” I replied, “I go to the gym five times a week and I eat a healthy diet, I’ve even cut down on my drinking.”

“I’m sure you do have a healthy heart” the small man replied, “But I’m checking it for something else.”

As the small man said this, an outline of something I couldn’t quite make out started forming between us. I starred intensely trying to make out what was forming in front of me. I first noticed a pear shaped outline, then the outline started gaining a density of what looked like raw meat, then the whole apparition started to pulsate.

“Just as I thought” the small man said whilst shaking his head, “The love has gone, yes that explains the grey colour, here and here, look.”

“What do you mean the love has gone?” I replied, starring at the grey pulsating apparition in front of me.”

“That’s your heart” The Small man said, “See those grey bits, that’s where the love should be.”

I knew why, she’d left me and ever since then I hadn’t felt the same. No amount of masterpiece goals, therapeutic showers or days off work would change that. Not even the love master, Alan Shearer, could help me get back that feeling of being whole again.

“Do you even know what day it is?” The small man said, breaking my trail of thought.

“Monday” I replied, looking over the small man’s head at the football on TV.

“Tut, tut, tut” The small man delivered with the same patronizing tone I’d used earlier, “It’s Valentines day, how could you not have known?”

Perhaps that’s why I booked the day off work, because she would be there with the office crowd. She’d buy a baguette and we’d small talk, didn’t bother me most days, but maybe today would be the day that it would. I noticed whilst musing that the small man had picked up his bow and had shuffled off towards the door to the balcony. When he turned I noticed a pair of miniature white feathery wings on his little back.

“Well I best be off” the small man said as he slid the balcony door ajar, “It’s a busy day for me today, don’t you know?”

With that the small man took off into the air, his wings carried him over the horizon until he was out of sight … When I came to reflect on this, I never really understood the relevance of his visit. But Rooney’s goal was truly a masterpiece and Alan Shearer could probably have any girl he wanted with a voice like that.