Boss: Go grab those 2 by 4's and start laying them out so we can measure the angle from the initial incline over hang of the deck to the circumference of the ground, we will need to dig deep for the cement to go into the trenches and get an approximate idea of the different widths with the joists by measuring out the correct angle from house to water.
Two hungover stoned employees, Red and Alex stare at each other dumb founded. Neither has actually worked on building patio decks. They both lied on their resumes. They stumble off to grab some 2 by 4's.There are thousands of 2 by 4's, and the boys begin to sweat out the liquor from what seems only a few hours before. The early sun beats down on beer guts; it's a sunny Michigan cold morning somewhere near Tweed Lake.
Red to Alex: Do you know what the fuck he was talking about?
Alex: Yeah dude, just grab these 2 by 4's and lay them out, and I'm sure he will show us the rest.
Red: Yeah but, he thinks we know what were doing, and we don't, this guys been building patio decks for half his life.
Alex: Just shut up dude, I need this job, keep pretending we are veterans at this shit.
Red: I guess, this sucks though; I'm tired, and feel like I'm gonna vomit at any second.
Alex: boo fukin hoo.
There is a huge house next to the workers. The lake starts looking very inviting as the heat of the sun picks up, and sweat pores continue to drip b.o. and booze from Alex and Red. The boss is measuring things out and doing things with strange looking foreign tools around the edge of the grass.
The owner of the rich house comes out to talk to the boss. There are pats on back, fishing talk, construction talk, hunting and sports talk. The owner completely ignores Alex and Red. Just gives them a quick one over disgusted look and goes back to his luxury house, which will soon have a massive deck jutting out from it into the Tweed Lake.
After a few more hours…..
Boss: All right men, that's enough 2 by 4's. Time to get digging. Come here for a second. I have to go over to lumber city and pick up some more supplies. I'm going to leave you my tool belt, and a few other things of necessity, since you both forgot your belts. Here are two shovels. Start digging 3 ten-foot trenches' at this point here. Then connect all the trenches into one, at a 30-degree angle, but only after you have measured the width to an approximate one sixteenth with the tape measure. And feel free to use my level after you line the two by fours up around the marks I left with the chalk line from the house to water. Don't forget about the soil texture when you hit the clay, so we know exactly where the cement will begin to get hard after dumping. The digging may get ruff. But if so, go ahead and start up the tractor plow. Just watch the clutch, it sticks. I'm sure you boys know how to operate one. I expect the metal planks will fit properly into the 3 by 8 inch screw holes we got for the electric drill bit. Just finish off the digging and get the frame set to the incline. You both should be able to finish this in a few hours, before I get back from lumber city. Any questions?
Red and Alex look at each baffled.
Alex's face gets a bit twitchy, trying to comprehend what was just said.
Alex: No problem sir.
Boss: Ok then boys, see you in a few hours. And don't forget about the triangular point near the 10 by 4 joist bolts, where the incline meets the water. I left the intinal rough draft for the architecture over near my staple gun, just remember the width must meet the height after you have leveled out the metal planks with the 5 by 8 pallets that are coming. Hell, you guys know what you're doing; I'll shut up now.
The boss lights a smoke, climbs into his super wide pick up truck, gives Alex and Red a thumbs up, and drives out of the driveway.
Red: This is total bullshit. I don't understand one thing he said. Fuck, I should have never quit my dishwashing job.
Alex: Come on dude, this pays better; we will just dig these holes. We can do that.
Red: We are going to fuk something up man; did you understand any of that mumbo jumbo construction guy talk?
Alex: Of course not, but who cares, he has to pay us, even if we don't know what were doing. It's not like it's the end of the world if he finds out were a couple of idiots when it comes to this shit. I got a lot of fines to pay off from that drunk driving I got last year. Not to mention all the credit agencies that have tracked me down and are now threatening to take me to court. My kid's child support as well.
The boys dig for an hour and a half straight. Arms become sore, thoughts turn to water.
One of them already puked.
The old man owner of the house keeps peeking out an upstairs window. Neither Alex nor Red brought any water. They stop working for a minute, and both light smokes, burning sweat dripping down into scorching eyes.
Red: Why does that rich old fuck keep staring at us from the upstairs window?
Alex leaning up against a clump of dirt: Who knows, maybe he's jacking off to the sight of your great white belly.
Red: Fuck off, I'm going swimming.
Alex: Dude, I don't think that's a good idea, we are supposed to be working.
Red: Oh shut up, you pansy waste.
Red gets a running start and does a cannonball into the Lake Tweed. The nervous man in the upstairs window continues to peek out. Alex decides a little swimming break cant hurt. He does a belly flop into the water. They both swim for a while wondering why that owner keeps staring at them. Something in the water makes them itchy.
They get out of the water after drinking some as well. It tasted like fish piss mixed with kava kava.
Alex: I got an idea, lets start up that tractor to dig the holes quicker.
Red: Do you know how to operate one?
Alex: Of course not, but one will never learn anything with out trying. I'm sure I can figure it out.
Alex climbs up into the tractor and starts the key.
It makes a loud puttering engine noise.
Something had snapped in Alex's brain.
All he could see were all the shit jobs haunting his shadow from years past.
All the asshole bosses. Noose around neck. Crap pay.
The bills piled up in some dusty Michigan basement.
Landlords tracking him.
Warrants out for his arrest. Holes in arms. Caseworkers.
His young son, who he rarely gets to see,
His x-wife in another man's arms. Dieing brother in hospital.
Life & all things he use to ignore
just came full circle around his hungover head near Tweed Lake.
Eviction notices.
Something snapped all right.
Red: Dude! Cut it out; get off of that dam thing!
Alex trying to start it again: What man?
Alex puts his foot on the gas, and messes around with all the different clutches and knobs. The big jaws of the tractor rise into the air.
Alex: Cool man, check it out Red!
They both continue to itch & scratch their sweaty skin.
Alex is snapping the jaws into the air, like he's some bull rider on a metal wild bull. The old man is staring out the window even more, with a look of fright.
Red panicking: Alex, turn it off you fool!
Alex messes with the clutches more. Foot on gas. The entire tractor jumps forward in fast forward motion about 10 feet and plunges into Tweed Lake.
Alex hits his head pretty hard against something metal & shiny, but manages to swim back to land, blood engulfing his face. He is laughing his head off like a lunatic.
Red: You have lost your fukin mind Alex! What the hell were you thinking!
The old rich owner man comes running out of his house yelling so insanely; that his cuss words can barely be made out.
The owner in Lebanese accent: Cchhhudda bu shenten ! You fukin bad bad bad schlotzkies! what the men hell Cchhhhudda bu schwerbu ! you fukin jerks! what in all dee hell have has got in your heads! Shacchhhhocchhhh bu shenten! shit in your underwear! Why how could…. what the hell fukin asshole white trash loser Americans! Shacchhhhocchhhh bu schwerbu!
The old man grabs his heart, collapsing next to the holes they were digging for his 85 thousand dollar patio deck. Cardiac arrest.
They both stare for a minute at the creepy old owner.
Alex: I'm going in his house, see if he has anything worth stealing.
Red grabs Alex's shoulders, shaking him violently.
Red: What the hell is wrong with you! I can't believe this shit you pull! No way am I letting you get me thrown back in jail!
Alex punches Red in the gut. Red doubles over to the ground. Alex kicks him in the face, knocking him out. Alex proceeds into the house. He searches all over the place, ripping things apart, smashing everything in search of cash or jewels. After about 30 minutes, he finds an old brief case stuffed in the back of the old man's closet. It has over 80 thousand dollars in it. Alex can't believe his eyes. He finds some car keys & speed's off in the dead mans Mercedes.
Alex plans on going straight through. To Canada. Just drive. Just drive. He knows a few people in Canada that can give him a new identity. He drives rapidly to his x- wife's house to say goodbye to his son. His son opens the door with those five-year-old baby blues. As soon as Alex lays eyes on his boy, he snaps out of his deranged spell for a moment. He holds his kid in his arms, sitting on the front porch of the house he use to live at.. He squeezes his boy in his arms. His gaze is distant, Unsure, & manically nervous.
Alex's sun: What's wrong daddy? What's wrong with you today? I had a dream we were fishing at the Tweed Lake. I still got the fishing pole you bought me. Daddy?
No response from Alex. Face covered in blood. He thinks of the briefcase and re evaluates what to do next while scratching his now boiling skin. He thinks of digging holes for the rest of his life, or rotting away in some prison cell. Bubbles filled with pus & blood are forming on his back.
The boss pulls back up to the site with a truck bed full of fresh lumber. Red is still knocked out, & his skin is bubbling into lesions. The dead rich man who will never get to enjoy his new patio deck is turning cyanotic. 15 miles down the road, a couple of hung over sow chemical employees are dumping bags & bags of something into the lake.
This story Copyright 2001 Nicholas Morgan.
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