The Down With The Ship Story

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Every once in a while I get requests for jobs that might seem a bit unusual.

No, they do not involve me installing skylights in shorts so my junk dangles over the new window like the worlds longest teabagging. Its more the difficulty of the job, like the guy that figured he needed industrial parking fence installed around the perimeter of his roof to prevent his cat from getting trapped in his eaves trough. Like the woman who wanted two different shingle colors in three-foot wide lines across a long ranch style bungalow.

The difficulty becomes even more prevalent when you factor in the job being on an island.  As fun as it may seem to some people to have a home or cottage on an island, someone had to build the damn thing and I am willing to bet the echo of screamed profanity still echoes around the waters it sits in.

The job we were looking at was a huge six family cottage laid out in a wheel pattern of six small cottages joined in the middle by a giant hexagonal great room, It was impressive to see in the first place but what was more impressive was the fact it was built on the top of a rocky outcropping of an island that overlooked the water. There was a wooden staircase of over seventy steps that rose from the boat dock to a landing that presented the first look of the job as a castle atop a hill.

The oooooing and awwwwing can stop right now. The first thing we had to figure out was how we were not only going to get material up to the house but how we were going to get the garbage out.  We looked at several ideas but the only one that really worked was renting a barge and literally hauling every ounce of new and old material up and down the stairs.  Once the details of that were worked out with a local boat rental facility, we submitted a price to the cottage owner. I could literally feel my shoulders sag as he happily accepted the price without so much as a batted eye. He told me that of all the contractors he had called we were the only ones crazy enough to submit a bid on the job.  Looking back,   I should have charged him double.

We met the boat rental proprietor on the dock the first day of the job where he presented us with the chariot that would ferry us to the island. A barge that likely should have been retired before it took the cast of Gilligan’s Island on their three-hour tour sat listing in the shallow water. I felt like Luke Skywalker the first time he saw the Millenium Falcon. What a hunk of junk. The owner was all smiles as he started the engine and motioned we should start loading our gear on board.  After we were loaded, my brother Dart and I hopped down into a little aluminum boat that would get us to the island before our dad and the rest of the team.

As we motored off we decided to have a bit of fun. We accelerated away from the barge and  spun an ever increasingly tight spiral around the slow-moving vessel. In no time we were throwing massive waves at the team and soaking them and all their gear. We laughed our asses off as they began throwing nails and anything else at us they could. I think at one point a chunk of bologna from someones sandwich stuck to the side of the boat like a vagina colored barnacle.

The day was as miserable as you could imagine.  We shuttled bundle upon bundle of shingles up the stairs and wheelbarrowed load after load of garbage and waste material down the stairs to be loaded on the boat.  By midday, the barge was sitting ridiculously low in the water and we all eyed it speculatively hoping partially that it would sink right there and then.

As the day was winding down we realized we still had to unload the barge when we got back to the other shore. It caused almost all of our shoulders to sag as we looked at the small mountain of garbage awaiting us. Once again, the team loaded up with my dad piloting the barge as Dart and I sped ahead to get the truck down to the dock to unload into.  We decided that soaking a boatload of guys that were headed home was a great way to end our day so we yet again began to slosh waves up onto the barge.

As we sped off, we looked back and noticed the guys on the barge were frantically throwing garbage at us and then when that failed to reach us they started throwing tools at us. It struck me as odd but I had no desire to have a hammer embedded in my skull so we quickly motored away only to hear….

“WOULD YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES GET BACK HERE!!!! WE’RE SINKING!!!”

Dart and I looked at each other briefly knowing we had likely slogged enough water up onto the boat to cause their current predicament. We pulled up beside them and grabbed as much gear as we could and pulled a couple of the guys and hauled them on board with us too. I have no Idea how many tools they had jettisoned to lessen the weight on the barge but from the look on my dad’s face it was likely a ton.  The boat was barely out of the water as it was and our now overloaded boat wasn’t in much better shape.

Slowly we made our way to the dock thinking at any point we would sink but it was almost a blessing as we wouldn’t have to unload the barge. Yes, I know that’s not environmentally friendly but at that point I wouldn’t have cared if we sunk a Titanic made out of old McDonald’s styrofoam containers to avoid unloading that garbage and my fathers likely murderous wrath.

As we pulled up to the dock, my dad was just about to blast into me as he stepped towards the dock and missed completely. He dropped with a splash into knee-deep water and I couldn’t help it as I burst out in laughter.

” Fuck that captain goes down with the ship crap,” Dad growled at us from the water ” You two can take the barge tomorrow and swim home if you have to.”

Interlude – Squat

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People often commit to way too much. Too much time at work, too many activities on their schedule and trying desperately to squeeze out as many kids as that “961 Kids and Counting” woman. I can’t help it. She gives me the shudders. Having sex with her must be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. You could likely throw a dildo at her the size of a basketball and get nothing but net.

There are however commitments people make and after last week I will never look at my commitment to the gym the same way.

I had been working out pretty heavy and loaded up the squat rack with two hundred and eighty-five pounds and ground out an agonizing final set. Its been a while since I could squat that much and was quite proud that surgically reconstructed bionic leg held up for the duration. I had just started to take the weights off when a very unassuming guy walks up and asked if I was done. When I nodded, barely able to get the words out, I asked if he wanted anything left on for him.

He said to leave the big plates on and he began to stack more and more weight on. I think my eyes bulged as I watched him load four hundred and fifty pounds on to the bar and settle underneath it. I casually but concerned asked if he wanted a spot and he waved me off as he stepped back with the massive load on his back.

Yes. I said massive load on his back. Get your mind out of the gutter. Pervert.

I moved away to the racks of dumbbells and grabbed a set of to do lunges with but kept an eye on the guy to see if he collapsed under the weight. You have to understand, this guy was holding over double his body weight and looked like he would buckle. He slowly dropped down and just as he reached the point he would press back up, I heard it.

A fart rippled out of the guys shorts followed closely behind by a squishing noise that truly couldn’t have been good. I didn’t want to ask but you could clearly tell he had just shit his pants. His eyes went wild as he dropped the weight to the lower tier of the rack and ran for the door clutching a poop against his ass. I busted out laughing and sat down on a bench to catch my breath as I replayed the image over in my head.

A few minutes later I stood slack-jawed as the guy came back in and started taking weights off the bar. He didn’t say much as he was doing it and I was too afraid to ask if he needed help as I think I would have laughed all over again. To my total disbelief, the guy started loading up weights again but stopped around four hundred. He once again settled under the bar and stepped back with the weight on his shoulders.

Cringingly, I watched as he lowered himself and then blasted out a set of eight reps. It was painfully evidenced by the bulge of his sack protruding from the bottom of his shorts that he had simply tossed his undies in the trash, wiped himself off and decided to lower the weight a little. I figured at any point he was either going to blow a nut out the bottom of his nut sack or shit himself again. As he finished, he looked proudly at bar.

I realized I had never been that committed to a set of any lift that I would go right back at it after shitting myself. That and they make guys gym shorts way to absorbent of odor cause as he walked by me he smelled like he had pooped out a basket of onion rings covered in chicken gravy.

The Award Winning Story Part 4

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BECAUSE THE CHAMP……. IS………. HERE!!!!!!!!

As far as I am concerned ” Jaws – The Revenge” and the ironically titled ” Friday the Thirteenth Part Four – The Final Chapter” represent the high water mark for what the fourth part of any good series should strive to be. So it is with great pleasure that I accept my fourth award.

A heart-felt thanks goes to Ally of The Indelible Life of Me fame for the awarding of this prestigious honor. Be sure you check out this blog as the author has promised if they get thirty new followers they will post a picture of themself naked wrapped in nothing but a boa constrictor like Tawny Kitaen in that Whitesnake video.

The rules for accepting this award are quite simple –

  • Thank the person who gave you this award. That’s common courtesy.
  • Include a link to their blog. That’s also common courtesy
  • Next, select 7 blogs/bloggers that you’ve recently discovered or follow regularly. ( I would add, pick blogs or bloggers that are excellent!)
  • Nominate those 7 bloggers for the Versatile Blogger Award — you might include a link to the Versatile Blogger site.
  • Finally, tell the person who nominated you 7 things about yourself

As I have already listed many things about myself in my other award posts I have decided to share some random yet still versatile wisdom, so here are my seven thoughts for the day

1.  At least once during your children’s lives they should be referred to as ” vagina nuggets”

2.  There is no way to refer to anything as ” super gay” without actually being gay. By the time the sentence is spoken there will be a penis in your mouth

3.  The next time you see someone passed out at a party, stick a pound of butter down the front of their pants so over the course of them sleeping it melts then has time to congeal on their junk. When they wake up they will think they are patient zero for a brand new STD.

4.  If you are ever at a strip club with a heterosexual male friend and you buy him a drink, at some point ask him if he has a boner. I mean really your just making sure he’s having a good time on your dime.

5.  At what point in time did the rules of drinking change so it was only acceptable if you are a guy that you could on drink beer or whisky? I mean I drink smoothies all day long but the second I put booze in it I get called names? Oh, what do you call that drink, little girl? I CALL IT TASTY YOU FUCKIN ASSHOLE!!! I LOVE STRAWBERRIES!!!

6.  The greatest test of manhood is not how many other dudes you are tougher than, oh no, its eating six spicy chicken tacos from Taco Bell then seeing how long you can holding the resulting explosive diarrhea. I assure you that crossing your legs does not help.

7.  The best time of year to rob some one is on Halloween with a gang of midget’s dressed as My Little Ponies. No one would ever see it coming.

Wisdom for the ages my friends and now my list of brilliant people who will drop knowledge on you better than your first grade teacher riding Stephen Hawking’s dick-

1. Smutty Words – Sex. Food. Booze. Tit…….tit…. sorry.

2. Wet and Wasted – Sex. Food. Wild life. Guinea pigs. Are you sensing a theme here?

3. Becki’s Book Blog – Great recommendations on literature you currently aren’t reading but should be

4.  Emile Rouge – Eventually if I send enough people over to this blog its creator will take the hint of how madly I am in love with her art and email me some info on how I can purchase it. Yes. That was a hint.

5.  Night Owl – Easily one of my favorite blogs and one I am sure to make sure not to miss. Beautiful writer. Show her some love.

6. Mancakes – For all the love she sends my way

7. Hooray for Skanks –  For making me laugh my dick off consistently

Go and show them some love. All great and prolific bloggers.

I spent the weekend pimping my business at a home show and it has left me feeling a little old. It does however remind me of quote by a great man-

” Space mountain might be the oldest ride at the park but its got the longest line. WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

The Scales of Justice Story

” Is the prosecution ready to begin its summation?”

I ran a hand down the side of my face to cover the fact my mouth had fallen open. I had been sitting in the court room for nearly two and a half hours at this point listening to the droning voices of two sets of lawyers detailing the points of law in regards to a kidnapping and entrapment case. As the prosecution began to lay out its case, I looked around the room in amazement as the assembled host of lawyers stared dead eyed at their brief cases and cell phones. Was kidnapping that common place that it deserved this kind of disrespect?

I had left my team on the job site to head to the courthouse to fight an absolutely ludicrous fine I had incurred. The ice storm that had rocked our area over the weekend had left a swath of destruction in its path and we were in the midst of cleaning up a tree branch damaged roof as a new rain storm bore down on us. Time was of the essence in getting out of court as quickly as possible. As I watched the sky beginning to darken, I took in the details of the case.

The three defendants Mr. Black, Mr. Nicholas and Mr. White had on three separate occasions been found breaking and entering garages in the neighborhood they had lived in but it was widely accepted by all but the newest of people in the neighborhood that they were harmless. I watched as the woman who identified herself as their foster-mother broke down in tears as the prosecution detailed how the defendants had broken into the newest garage only to have themselves locked in the small space. Law enforcement was called and the three of them were taken away to a detention center until they could be released into the care of their foster care. The prosecutor was seeking damages to the garage on behalf of the plaintiff and the prevention of the defendants from living in the neighborhood.

As the first few drops of rain began to fall, the defense began to lay out case after case after case outlining the precedent set in which the charges against defendants should be lowered from six counts of breaking and entering and being ” at large” down to one as there was only one incident in which they could even be proven to being doing anything illegal. Further, as one of the defendants had passed away since the incident had occurred he couldn’t be prosecuted anyway.

” Is that Mr. Black, identified as “Blacky” in all documentation?” the judge asked with a raised eyebrow.

The foster-mother broke down into a sobbing mess at the mention of the deceased and all I could think is ” Isn’t someone even remotely concerned for this poor woman?” The prosecution and defense attorneys batted court documents back and forth at each other citing points of law and even the judge at this point was getting tired of it. The rain was now teeming outside and my concern for my team had reached a critical point.

Finally the judge called for it to come to an end.

” After six months of litigation and ninety-six hours in this court room I believe we have exhausted all the legal points available to us,” the judge said with an audible sigh at which point the foster-mother exclaimed

” Please, your worship! Don’t let them take my cats!!!”

Wait. What? Cats? Did I hear that right?

At this point, I swear to God even I can’t make this up, a gentleman sits down beside her and identifies himself as the cats actual owner and all he wants is Nicky and Whitey back.

I think the court reporter facepalmed herself at this point and I hung my head. Ninety-six hours to prosecute three cats who had broken into a woman’s garage and ate a bag of garbage.  The homeowner had trapped them, taken them to the Humane Society and then called the police to inform them she had dealt with the ” animal at large” problem in the area. This set off a chain of events culminating in poor Blacky’s demise and a court case spanning months of wasted time.

The rain was really teeming down at this point and the wind was lashing huge streaks of it across the window. I stood up and made my way over to the attorney handling my case. She turned her nose up at me as soon as I sat beside her.

” I have to go,” I explained ” I have employees in the rain trying to extract a tree branch that has gone through a customers roof and its pouring out.”

” That’s up to you,” She countered ” I will try to get a continuance.” She was an icy blonde that looked like she probably enjoyed watching insects fight each other to the death while she masturbated.

” If that’s the best you can do, you can go fuck yourself.” I said calmly. The shocked look on her face was more than worth it.

” Charge me with whatever you need, I will just pay the fine,” I shot at her as I sprinted from the courtroom and tore across the parking lot to my truck. There were no less than sixty people in the court room and all of them sat around all day listening to cases like this and I realized that paying any amount of money to avoid being there was worth it. I would rather have my balls cut off with a kite string than be subjected to that kind of insanity on a regular basis.

 

The It’s Raining Men Story

The heat does really strange things to people. Especially early spring heat. Maybe its a combination of the stowing away of too longly worn winter clothes and the humming buzz of freshly hatched insects that remind me of a truck full of vibrators that smashed into a trailer full of batteries but the first warm rays if sunshine that hits after a long wait for them effects peoples brain chemistry.

It seemed like the last of the snow had just melted when the temperature began to steadily rise. Over the course of a handful of days, the heat and humidity had ramped up producing a mini heat wave that had us removing as much clothing as possible the instant we reached the job site. Not beyond the point of decency mind you but dry humping the line of good taste for sure. By the time we got to the job the humidity was already so intense the air was like trying to breath soup through a scarf.

The homeowners were a married couple who were both retired teachers. They were a cute older couple. Cute in the way puppy kisses and vagina farts are. They had the Norman Rockwell feel with him in a collared shirt and slacks and her in a sun dress with pearls. They were walking around the yard as we worked, holding hands and commenting on the heat and wondering how we were surviving let alone getting any work done.  By the end of the first day, the entire team was already exhausted and drained from the constant oppressive heat and the volume of fluids we had lost and let dry on our skin like a dusty salt crust.

As we loaded up the truck that day, we stood beside the house downing bottles of water as fast as we could swallow them. We quickly realized that we would need at least twice as much as we had brought that day.  Seeing us sweltering in the heat, the lady of the house made her way over and clucked her tongue in that way that only former teachers can when she realized we had rapidly ran out of any source of hydration. She told us not to worry about the next day as she would make sure we had more than enough water to keep us wet.

The next morning dawned impossibly hotter than the previous.  You could almost feel the moisture rising from the ground and crawling over your skin like a horrible teenage kiss. You know the kind. Those kisses where you simply endeavored to get as much of your saliva in, on, or around the mouth and face of who ever you were kissing.

What? Was that just me? Huh. Guess that explains that grade nine to grade eleven dry spell. I always attributed it to my horribly bad mullet and teen Tom Selleck mustache.

As soon as we ascended the ladders and got to work, the entire team stood looking at each other as we watched a pile of shingles literally melt and fuse themselves together. We had to be mildly insane to even be attempting to work in this heat but the job had to get done. By the time the heat really began to intensify, the lady of the house appeared with a cooler full of ice and more bottles of water than you could count. We attacked the frigid liquid like a pack of hyenas and took much delight in spraying each other with handfuls of ice-cold water.  As hot as it was, the water raised instant goosebumps on any patch of skin it touched.

It also served to let us know exactly how hot we really were so we decided to call our day to an early end.  We persevered through the heat despite the heat coming off the shingles sizzling the skin on our hips and ass cheeks through our thick denim pants.  We were dirty, sweaty and almost delirious from the heat as we stood in the driveway watching the rippling waves of heat shine off the surfaces we had just finished.

The lady of the house walked out from under the awning she had been shading herself under and walked towards us.

” It’s a little warm isn’t it?”, She asked as we packed away our gear.

” Yes,” I replied ” It really is just too hot to try to get much more done.”

” Well, I can cool you all off,” She said with a flirtatious look from behind her horn rim librarian glasses ” All of you line up and I will hose you off with the garden hose.”

I was stunned. I wasn’t sure if she was joking and my team looked nervously at me to see what my reaction would be.

” Honestly, I think the cold water will stop my heart,” I replied only to see her smile falter. I didn’t want to disappoint her and quite frankly I was being paid to be there I did the only thing I could. I tore off my shirt and took the hose from her. I then proceeded to wash the dirt and sweat from my body as she stepped back to watch. I mean this lady was so old that she was likely a student in Shakespeare’s drama class but that didn’t mean she was too old to want to see virile young men hosed down like a personal wet t-shirt contest. So I turned the hose towards my guys only to see them scramble away from the bitterly cold water.

I chased a few of them around much to her delight and even managed to get a couple of them with the hose before returning it to her. She laughed and clapped her hands a little as she wound up the hose. I mean to her,my whole team likely looked like this –

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But in my mind we likely looked a bit more like this –

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It’s rainin’ men. Hallelujah.

The Walking Dead Story

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I have seen the way our world will end. I have literally stood on the edge of the Apocalypse and it shook my very soul.  

An ice storm ripped through the region over the last few days resulting in massive wide-spread power loss. Trees fell over power lines, basements flooded and the temperature plummeted.  You would think that this would be a time for people to come together in the spirit of humankind but you would be wrong.

Nope, our world will not be ended by nuclear war, environmental disaster or the rise of the undead. No, our world will end with people standing in line for coffee at Tim Horton’s.

I have never seen a more shuffling mass of zombies who would easily bite the skin off your face for no other reason than you stepped around them to use the bathroom while your kid help your place in line for you than I did today. I watched people sucking down that liquid cocaine with the same passion zombies devoured brains in any Romero movie ever created. People can go without the basic necessities of cleanliness or personal hygiene as long as they can guzzle java.

Imagine a world without coffee. Temper tantrums over cutting someone off in the drive through would lead to fist fights. These scuffles would lead to police being called. Police without coffee and donuts would lead to mass shootings. Mass shootings would lead roving bands of civilian militia taking the law into their own hands and hoarding the last few coffee beans and SWAT teams fighting them to the bitter end.

Governments would mobilize the military to retrieve the last few dregs of coffee leading to a full-scale revolution. Columbia and Brazil would shut down their borders causing the American government to “liberate” their people in an effort to hide the fact they are simply pimp slapping someone else for something they need the same way Dick Cheney back-handed the Middle East. Every remaining country would launch whatever assault they could muster at the U.S. leading to total global war for control over the remaining canisters of Folgers.

Volcanoes would erupt blanketing the earth in dust that most people would eventually try to brew into a drink . The skies would open up and rain frogs and used condoms. The seas would turn the color and texture of Taco Bell induced diarrhea giving the sharks no choice but to build breathing devices out of Puffer fish and sea cucumbers. The last remaining humans would be fighting a war against land sharks intent on snapping them with condoms full of old jism and frog farts. That’s when the caffeine zombies would rise. Yes, we never had a chance.

I know now the world will not end with either a bang nor a whimper. No, it will end with some four hundred pound woman in her pyjama pants being seven hundredth in line screaming

” I BETTER GET AN EXTRA LARGE DOUBLE-DOUBLE BEFORE I START CUTTING SOMEONE!!!!!”

 

The Man of Steel Story

As a child, we all idolize our parents in some form or another. Be it mannerisms, speech patterns or behaviors, for good or for bad we learn most of what we will ever learn from the environment we grow up in.

My dad was and always will be my hero and mentor. The fact he has been gone for over eight years doesn’t diminish the impact he had in my formative years. In fact, if I had to blame anyone, I would say the steady diet of Rambo movies we watched together and the fact he shared my love of comic books but secretly would never tell anyone despite the fact I knew he read them especially when he would put them back in the wrong order or subtly try to influence what I would pick up on new comic day were the largest contributing factor into my not so minimal hero complex. He too was a run to the rescue kind of guy.

As much as I often dreaded the Saturday mornings he would ask me to go to work with him when I was growing up, as I got older I began to understand it was just as much as excuse to spend time with me as it was anything else. A reason I myself would use later on as my kids got older. Once they realized they actually got paid to spend time with me they asked much more frequently to come to work with me.

I relented the one weekend and let them both come with me. My son, who by now was as big as any of my guys yet ten years younger, went with my brother and the rest of the team to finish up a small job and clean up a job site and I took my daughter with me to set up a very small cottage job. On the way there, the material delivery driver called to say he would be late showing up. I figured that gave me plenty of time to get the job started before the rest of the team showed up. I got my ladder set up and started removing the shingles before I saw my daughters head poke up over the edge of the roof.

Now, I know what you’re thinking and yes I am a terrible parent. I let her up on the roof with me. You have to understand she wasn’t going to be denied in that arms crossed over her chest, head tilted down, looking just over the top of her glasses, scowling kind of way and I really can’t say no to her. She was even more mad that I wouldn’t let her use a nail gun and actually put shingles on but I had to draw the line somewhere. I would have rather let her try to juggle flaming chain saws than have her shoot herself with one of those.

The rest of the team had shown up by this point and we were still waiting for the delivery driver. The sun had come out and turned what was once a hard packed driveway into a soupy mess and I was worried about getting my trailer stuck on the way out with it loaded down. A couple of phone calls later and we heard the crane truck rumbling down the small road. With a shake of my head at the lateness of the delivery, I watched as the five ton truck pulled into the driveway, swerved around my truck and promptly slid off the edge of the driveway and sunk up to the top of the tires into the swampy ground.

” You have got to be fucking kidding me!,” I exclaimed as I flew down the ladder to survey the damage. The truck was way overloaded with weight as not only did it have my material  but over three tons of concrete for another delivery.  My daughter was on the ground and I   walked over sure she wasn’t anywhere near the truck when they tried to move it. As I walked her away from the driveway, she looked back over her shoulder and summed the situation up quite nicely.

” Yep, they’re fucked,” She said as she reached out and took my hand. I stopped dead in my tracks and did the only thing I could. I laughed my ass off and high-fived her. Hey, its my job site not Sunday School.

I backed my large truck up and attached a couple of tow ropes to the nose of the slowly sinking truck. Using some boards I had from another job and slid them as far as we could under the tires to help with traction. With a deep sigh, I slid behind the wheel of my truck as my daughter climbed into the passenger’s seat. Her eyes were expectant and I wasnt sure I could pull this one off. We had unloaded as much of the material as we could but the truck was still massive and very stuck. With a rumble of the engine behind me and I howl of my own engine, I snapped my truck into four-wheel drive and buried the pedal.

With a squeal of smoking tires and a groan of the tow rope, the truck shifted slightly. It wasn’t working. I turned and looked at my daughter and told her to roll down her window.

” If they would give it some fucking gas it might come out,” I sighed as I rubbed my palm on my face. Without missing a beat my daughter stuck her head out the window.

” My dad says give it some fucking gas!” she yelled.

The delivery driver busted out laughing and waved at her. I just shook my head and floored the gas again. The truck shifted and with a shuddering heave and clods of flying muck we pulled it free and out to the main road.  My daughter laughed and we high-fived again.  She called my wife at that point to come pick her up. She had enough for one day and the real excitement was over. She was bursting to tell the story and over a few tellings like all stories it became bigger. By the time she made it to school on Monday I actually think she was telling people I pulled the truck out with my bare hands. I didn’t do anything to discourage her because it’s not like many kids have dads that pull trucks out of the mud bare handed or dressed like this –

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The Shot Heard Round the World Story

Life is about balance.

It might sound corny but its true. Everything in the natural world seeks to balance its self. From the melting ice caps regulating the worlds temperature resulting in the longest winter in our generation proving Global Warming was a buzz word Al Gore used to make millions on speaking tours and nothing more to the teeming swarms of mosquitos who feel the need to devour my alcohol soaked blood every time I drink outside around a campfire thereby balancing their own nutritional need with my blood to booze ratio, everything seeks balance.

Not only does the physical world crave balance but the existential one that we normally can’t perceive strives for it as well. You might be asking at this point ” What kind of philosophical crap have I wandered into here? Isn’t this the guy I normally laugh at cause his dick is hanging in the fucking wind?” Trust me, it all makes sense in the end.

The winter was coming to its inevitable end and as has become apparent our climate seeks to balance its destructive nature with the fact most people have made it through the winter with minimal home damage. See, it’s a theme ( sigh, face palm). The last of the winter storms had rolled through pushed by rising temperatures and hellacious winds. The phone calls began pouring into the office and we were trying our best to attend to the most pressing ones as quickly as we could.

The day was coming to a close and we were no were near completed the calls we needed to attend to. Dart and I decided to try to get one last call done before calling a day. The house we were headed for was a customer’s home who owned a large factory. Hoping to impress him with our skill so he would hire us to do some work on his massive building and the fact he had called over nine times in a state of panic lead us there in the rapidly waning daylight.

Large swaths of snow covered areas of the low-pitched roof and we had to search to find the area of damage. It was buried under an ice cemented drift that we hadto chip out just to see. The wind continued to howl and I had finally had enough. It had been a miserable day and I was tired and angry and cold. Mother Nature might be trying to balance her seasons but I was trying to balance my bank account. My desire to start me work season off with a large industrial contract won out over the weather and we stood the ladder up.  The wind pushed at it and shoved the top all over the place. It took both Dart and I to get it in position.

The more the wind screamed, the more I was determined to get the repair done.  My teeth gritted as I removed the damaged shingles and the cold wind blew up my back. With numbing fingers and ice pelted faces, we finished the repair as quickly as we could.  With not a small amount of pride, I stood at the peak of the roof  and turned my face to the howling wind and howled back. Throwing back my head, I howled at the top of my lungs.

” Fuck you, Mother Nature ,” I thought ” I win.”. I headed down the ladder and asked Dart if he needed help with the ladder. He shook his head to indicate he didn’t need assistance as we were both too cold to talk at that point. I turned my back and headed towards the truck when the wind howled anew and I heard a whistle and a loud thunk right before my world went dark.

My eyes snapped open and I found myself on my knees in the driveway. My head was ringing and I was mildly certain I had just shit my pants. My vision was swimming and then I heard footsteps hurrying over towards me.

” Are you alright?,” Dart asked as he rushed up to me.

” What the fuck just happened?” I asked as I shook my head trying to clear my watering eyes.

” The wind picked up just as I took the ladder down and it smashed you in the head,” Dart explained.

At that point, I stood up and think I shook a small poop down the leg of my pants. My ears were still ringing and it was accentuated by a fresh blast of ice peppered wind. In a moment of clarity, it all made sense. Dart had trouble balancing the ladder in the wind. Mother Nature seeking to teach me the error of my cursing her had shoved at just the right moment sending me home with fuzzy vision, a swollen skull and poop stained pants.

You might be chalking it all up to bad weather and coincidentally bad timing but I know better. It’s all about balance.

Well played, you bitch. Well played.