WORK CREW

photo © bob arnold

THOUGHT



When I was a lumberyard worker, bored out of my mind, I’d find a cool spot in the shade and hole up there and think awhile, even read

Today I landed in a lumberyard looking for luan and found a bored big worker and from a long way off I could tell he was twittering with his Twitter

Such a big guy looking like he was playing with his thumbs

ON FIRE



I spoke to a small Irish fellow today who likes to drink and work on gas heating. We were thinking of hiring him for a job here. Something I could work with him on. His hourly wage is extremely reasonable, which was one of the attractions, and he is the foreman of our gas co. He would do this as moonlighting, thus the cut rate labor cost.

“Any Saturday is good”, he said. “But catch me before the heating season begins in late summer.”
I nodded.

Then he mentioned how he blew up a gas job where most of his body was a ball of flame. Another worker was fortunately on hand and pushed him out and rolled him onto the grass. Still, “the flesh on both my arms were dripping off. I could bring you the pictures. You'd puke."

Sweetheart’s now looking at my guidance about hiring or not hiring this small Irish hard drinking fellow.

Q & A



Got any snakes in the house?

Nope. Just in the firewood.

Garter?

Yup. Maybe a half dozen in this stack of wood.

How about brown recluse?

Not here.

I got stung in the lower leg, almost killed me.

Where?

Around here, even though they say the spider isn’t around here. He found me. I was 11 days in the hospital. An Oriental doctor is the one who saved me and neither of us could speak the same language. A hole the size of a half dollar in my leg. And the stink, whew! I guess it was my rotting flesh. For awhile there I was on drugs where I was seeing rats in the kitchen. I know they weren’t there but I saw them.



Bob Arnold gets many poems with people messin’ with his head.