sir.”
Paul turned to go, “And slam that damned door
behind you!”
Paul slammed the door which didn’t latch and
he slammed it a second time. He looked around at the trucks until
he spotted a red rig with a couple legs sticking out from
underneath the rig.
He walked over to the truck, the legs weren’t
moving and he wondered if something was wrong, he gently tapped a
booted foot and the leg jerked.
A man with a wrinkled bearded face covered
with grease crawled out from under the rig.
“What the hell you want sonny?” He wiped
tobacco juice off his mouth with a dirty sleeve.
“I’m the new choker setter, Bill said to tell
you to get me some cloths and a hard hat.”
“The new choker setter you say? The old man
must be getting desperate. Ok, I’ll see what we can round up.” He
stood up wiping his hands on his greasy pants.
“You ever worked in the woods boy?”
“No sir, I haven’t.”
“Well you cain’t were tight clothing out
there, you got any money?”
“No.”
“Hmmm… you look about my size, lets go down
to my house and we’ll fix you up with something, but you’ll have to
give it back when you get paid.”
He walked over to a nearby pickup, “Come on
and get in.”
They drove down to a little shack about a
quarter mile down the road and pulled into what passed for a
driveway, the yard was cluttered with over grown weeds and junk, Ed
pulled the truck around to the back of the house. The back door
hung loosely on worn hinges; a dog of questionable breed rose up
from near the door and ambled over to greet them.
“Get out of the way Clyde, go hunt something
you lazy peckerwood, gowan now!”
The dog paid no attention as Ed limped toward
the door.
Clyde followed them in to a room with a
washer and dryer and general mayhem, the place smelled of soiled
clothing, rotten meat and other unidentified smells which made Paul
want to hold his nose.
A soiled set of work clothes hung on a hanger
off a rusty nail on the back wall. The hickory shirt looked like it
had seen better days; the legs of the pants were ripped in two
places.
“These have been hanging here a while, Bill
says I cain’t go back out in the woods no more, gettin’ to long in
the tooth.” He spat a stream of tobacco juice at Clyde as Clyde
nimbly ducked and the tobacco juice hit the floor. “You mights well
have them, hell, you don’t even have to pay me back.”
Paul held the shirt and pants up to him, he
thought they would fit, Ed took a hard hat off another nail and
handed that to him. “You can adjust the band to fit. It’ll do.”
“Put your feet in these corks so I can tell
if they fit” Paul took his shoes off and pull the spiked boot’s on,
they felt a tiny bit sloppy, “They feel a slight bit to large.”
“That’s what you want, you don’t want them
too tight, they fit.”
“I appreciate this Mr. Brubaker. I’ll pay you
for them when I get paid.”
“No sweat kid, just go out there and do a
good job for Bill and he’ll treat you right, you sluff off out
there, he’ll kick your ass off the job so fast it’ll make your head
swim.”
“I aim to do the best I can.”
“I know you will son.” He clapped him on the
back. “Now come on, I got to get back to the yard.”
Thirty minutes later Paul pulled into the
drive of the old two story rented farm house. He walked into the
kitchen where his wife Sue was preparing dinner. He had the clothes
hung over his shoulder still on the hanger. He walked up behind her
and slapped her on the fanny. She turned and looked up at him
surprised; he hadn’t done that in a long time.
He smiled down at her and kissed her on the
lips. “I got a job today.”
“Ug… What in the world is that smell?”
“These. My new clothes.”
“Good grief Paul. Where on earth did you get
those things?”
“Ed Brubaker gave them to me to work in
Paul turned to go, “And slam that damned door
behind you!”
Paul slammed the door which didn’t latch and
he slammed it a second time. He looked around at the trucks until
he spotted a red rig with a couple legs sticking out from
underneath the rig.
He walked over to the truck, the legs weren’t
moving and he wondered if something was wrong, he gently tapped a
booted foot and the leg jerked.
A man with a wrinkled bearded face covered
with grease crawled out from under the rig.
“What the hell you want sonny?” He wiped
tobacco juice off his mouth with a dirty sleeve.
“I’m the new choker setter, Bill said to tell
you to get me some cloths and a hard hat.”
“The new choker setter you say? The old man
must be getting desperate. Ok, I’ll see what we can round up.” He
stood up wiping his hands on his greasy pants.
“You ever worked in the woods boy?”
“No sir, I haven’t.”
“Well you cain’t were tight clothing out
there, you got any money?”
“No.”
“Hmmm… you look about my size, lets go down
to my house and we’ll fix you up with something, but you’ll have to
give it back when you get paid.”
He walked over to a nearby pickup, “Come on
and get in.”
They drove down to a little shack about a
quarter mile down the road and pulled into what passed for a
driveway, the yard was cluttered with over grown weeds and junk, Ed
pulled the truck around to the back of the house. The back door
hung loosely on worn hinges; a dog of questionable breed rose up
from near the door and ambled over to greet them.
“Get out of the way Clyde, go hunt something
you lazy peckerwood, gowan now!”
The dog paid no attention as Ed limped toward
the door.
Clyde followed them in to a room with a
washer and dryer and general mayhem, the place smelled of soiled
clothing, rotten meat and other unidentified smells which made Paul
want to hold his nose.
A soiled set of work clothes hung on a hanger
off a rusty nail on the back wall. The hickory shirt looked like it
had seen better days; the legs of the pants were ripped in two
places.
“These have been hanging here a while, Bill
says I cain’t go back out in the woods no more, gettin’ to long in
the tooth.” He spat a stream of tobacco juice at Clyde as Clyde
nimbly ducked and the tobacco juice hit the floor. “You mights well
have them, hell, you don’t even have to pay me back.”
Paul held the shirt and pants up to him, he
thought they would fit, Ed took a hard hat off another nail and
handed that to him. “You can adjust the band to fit. It’ll do.”
“Put your feet in these corks so I can tell
if they fit” Paul took his shoes off and pull the spiked boot’s on,
they felt a tiny bit sloppy, “They feel a slight bit to large.”
“That’s what you want, you don’t want them
too tight, they fit.”
“I appreciate this Mr. Brubaker. I’ll pay you
for them when I get paid.”
“No sweat kid, just go out there and do a
good job for Bill and he’ll treat you right, you sluff off out
there, he’ll kick your ass off the job so fast it’ll make your head
swim.”
“I aim to do the best I can.”
“I know you will son.” He clapped him on the
back. “Now come on, I got to get back to the yard.”
Thirty minutes later Paul pulled into the
drive of the old two story rented farm house. He walked into the
kitchen where his wife Sue was preparing dinner. He had the clothes
hung over his shoulder still on the hanger. He walked up behind her
and slapped her on the fanny. She turned and looked up at him
surprised; he hadn’t done that in a long time.
He smiled down at her and kissed her on the
lips. “I got a job today.”
“Ug… What in the world is that smell?”
“These. My new clothes.”
“Good grief Paul. Where on earth did you get
those things?”
“Ed Brubaker gave them to me to work in
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