Sunday, September 27, 2015

The Tools [2009]

August 22, 2007  8:37 PM
          Tony’s god-damned dog has been digging out behind my shed again, and I’m pretty sure I saw him shuffling off with Mr. Olkowski’s colostomy bag in his mouth.  That mangy, flea-ridden mutt has been skirting the edge of my tolerance for weeks now, and he’s lucky he hasn’t gotten the hose, or worse.  If it weren’t for Tony’s close proximity to my base of operations, I would’ve offed Alfonz back in May.  Alfonz: what the hell kind of name is that for a shepherd/dane mix?  It’s a damned ignorant one, that’s what, and a disrespectful one, too!  If I had to count all the times that goofy wop bastard has disrespected me and my people, I’d need a hell of a lot more fingers and toes than I’ve got on me right now, that’s for sure.  He’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m going to sacrifice my place in this neighborhood, while that feral cur pisses all over my tulips and dredges up my progress.  I could really do something right now; something about this whole sodding mess!  And I could pound my fist on the door jam a thousand bloody times, too!  I could bust right through it, into the laundry room.  But then I’d have to put a load in, and I just don’t have time for that crap right now.  Alfonz: what the hell kind of name is that?

August 23, 2007  5:49 AM
          I couldn’t sleep at all last night.  I just kept thinking about Tony and his dog, and the shed and that well worn patch of earth behind it.  I couldn’t get all the tools out of my head.  They just kept bouncing around in there like some sharp ping pong balls, or something.  Alfonz and Tony and my tools, dancing and digging and creating and finding, all those things in my head.  I haven’t got vegetables planted back there, that’s for sure!  What’s Tony got in the ground out behind his rusty old shed?  Is it wearing a nightgown or a blazer?  A filthy bib with bloodstains and crushed apricots smeared all over it?  Why doesn’t he look somewhere else?  There’s got to be lots of things he could find somewhere else, if he’s of the mind to look.  Alfonz might even sniff out some squirrel or rabbit, or some other small and harmless creature to skin and cook for supper.  And another thing: who does Tony think he’s fooling with that dye job?  Probably thinks he’s fooling me, but he’s sure off the mark on that one, I’ll tell you.  Just because you’ve got good tricep definition and a firm ass doesn’t mean you’re not forty!  Who in this neighborhood really believes he’s a blonde?  Not me, that’s certain!  I’ll get my tools and give him a trim he won’t soon forget.  I’d like to see him strut up and down along his neatly trimmed hedges then, with a good, clean haircut and that stupid smile.  I’d like to see the ladies notice him then, with his polo shirt and Dockers, and his brown blazer with the patches on the elbows.  All that and a haircut, that would do him a whole hell of a lot of good.  I’ll have to clean up that god-damned dog, too!  And it won’t be cheap, either.

August 23, 2007  4:17 PM
          I haven’t felt this good since the day my dad came home from Vietnam.  I’m basking in a real sense of accomplishment, like I’ve done something they might not forget for a hundred years or more.  Maybe even two hundred, if I play my cards right.  Of course, there’s still lots of work to do, and Tony’s going to owe me a lot of money when I’m finished.  He’ll see the value, just like the next person, and he will open his wallet accordingly.  I might even take a shower when I’m finished, then put on my fancy shirt and sit on the porch for all the neighbors to see and admire.  I can look handsome too, if that’s what I set out to do.  My mom dressed me up real nice the day my dad came home from Vietnam, and she even cried looking at me.  That’s how good I can look!  Maybe I’ll even bring the tools out there with me; line them up along the railing so everybody can see them shine.  Of course, I’ll have to clean them up a little bit as well, but that’s no worry.  I’ve got lots of polish and rags, and the strength to do the job right.  I always do the job right, just ask anyone.  Except Mrs. Duffy.  Don’t ask that bitch anything.  She doesn’t have the faintest idea what an honest day’s work would look like.  She can’t even keep up with the garden out behind her shed, let alone manage all these tools and a heavy workload on top of it.  Now my garden, there’s something to behold!  It’s all freshly tilled and ready for planting.  I think I’ll put in some tulips.  Yes, I’ll do that tomorrow, if I can get my money from Tony.

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