Feliks: GOLAZOOO DE GABIGOL!
Nothing Like a Family Gathering
"Fødselsdagen til dig! Fødselsdagen til dig! Fødselsdagen til Finn! Fødselsdagen til dig!"
As great as they were at the football, the Laudrup brothers were hardly known for their signing voices, but they managed to join together in a hearty chorus of "Happy Birthday" for their father. It was Finn's 70th birthday, and the ex-Danish international was ecstatic to have his two famous sons joining him for the day.
The three ex-footballers were sitting around the table at the family house in Denmark, and Michael was cutting some slices off of a chocolate cake in the center.
Finn began speaking, in a soft, rambling manner. "I'm so glad you boys could come today. I know it must be very busy for you two."
"Nonsense, Isä," Brian replied animatedly. "We wouldn't have missed it--"
His father continued speaking, however, as if he hadn't heard his son. "It's especially good to see you, Michael. Brian's been good, he's come to visit often, but you are always busy with your football."
Brian and Michael exchanged quick frowns, but resumed their smiling demeanors before their father saw anything. "It's good to see you, too," Michael replied.
"Brian, maybe you ought to follow Michael. Management is good fun, you'll enjoy the challenge."
Brian's smile faltered again, and this time he could not restore it. "I have, Isä, remember? I coach Borussia Dortmund now."
Finn chuckled and shot back with surprising force for his age, "Bahh, get off Football Manager, boy! You've got no tactical experience, you'd fail miserably at anything like Dortmund. Start small, here in Denmark! I can help you, of course."
Michael couldn't help himself and pipped in, much to the amusement of his father, "He'd be rather poor, indeed, wouldn't he? Best stay to punditry and not get out of your depth, Brian."
Brian's knuckles whitened around his fork as he took a slice of the cake and began to chew, swallowing any retorts he'd prepared to keep things civil at his father's birthday.
"I'll be right back, boys, need to use the bathroom quickly." Finn stood up slowly and hobbled away, and Michael shot a devilish grin at his brother.
"Get off Football Manager, Brian!" he chortled. "Even da knows you're shit, and he's forgotten you actually manage!"
"Shut up, Michael," replied the younger brother with a more serious tone. "His Alzheimer's is getting worse. I'm starting to get worried."
Michael began to form a response, but quickly stopped and smiled at his returning father. The smile quickly slipped off his face, however, as he saw the look of terror on Finn's face.
"Michael...Michael? Who is that man in our house? Why is he eating my cake? It's my birthday!" The old man's complaints rose from a whimper to a hoarse shout.
"Get out of my house! Get out!"
"It's me, dad. It's Brian," he begged, but to no avail.
Michael sighed, and gestured, "Come on, Brian. Step out for a while, I'll let you know when he's better. His favorite son will be able to handle him for now."
Brian rose abruptly. "You cocky bastard. Maybe he doesn't remember me now, but he'll be ashamed that he ever remembered you once he finds out about the shit you've done to him, to his money, to this family."
Brian stepped out quietly, slamming the door behind him, leaving his father confused and afraid with his stunned brother.
The candles on the cake flickered, and the flames died.