vituperation

I carried the container of Christmas decorations up the Smallville garage stairs, mindful as always of the loose tread on the second step from the top. I have daymares about stepping on that loose tread one day and having it flip on me, either tumbling me down the stairs ass over teakettle or dropping me straight through to be impaled on the tractor implements stored below.

I worry, yet I still haven’t taken five minutes to fix the tread. It’s on my list, though. My very long list.

My goals today were simple: lay out and paint some quarter round so I can start putting it down when the floor guys finish, and spend a few hours working on my woodshed. I looked forward to putting the purlins on the woodshed (and maybe even the roof, time and energy permitting), not so much to painting the quarter round. Over the last four months, it’s safe to say I’ve pretty much gotten painted out.

At the top of the stairs I turned and took the decorations over to the spot we’d picked for them earlier in the week. Out of habit I glanced out the southern window, up the road that ends across the street from our house. After all, it was just a bit after eight, time for my favorite walker to come wandering by on his daily constitutional.

Ambling down the road as if he hadn’t a care in the world, the walkin’ dude made his way slowly toward me.

I set down the decorations and watched him from the shadows. At the end of the road, he turned in the direction of the corner grocery, which would lead him directly past our house. I kept an eye on him until he was past the driveway, then tiptoed down the stairs to put the quarter round up on sawhorses. And like the great big klutzy goof I am, I managed to trip over my toolbox at the bottom of the stairs, making a godawful clatter that could probably have been heard down at the corner store.

I peeked out toward the street, looking for the walkin’ dude, wondering if I’d see him coming back my way. I saw nothing, which made me happy. I don’t like dealing with the walkin’ dude. Not that I’m scared of him, because I’m not, I just want him to mind his business while I mind mine. The world would be a much better place if more people adopted that philosophy, I think.

I grabbed the carpet cutter out of my toolbox and set about cutting the twine holding the quarter round strips in a tight bundle. The twine was wrapped so tightly I could only fit the tip of the carpet cutter under it, making for a tedious time.

“Hey, man! You ready for me to do some work?”

God. Fucking. Damn.

The walkin’ dude was coming down the driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, smiling. I set the carpet cutter down and stood.

“Hello,” I said.

“I’m ready to work! You got something for me to do today?”

“Nah,” I said, and pointed at the quarter round. “I’m just going to do a little painting.”

“I’m a good painter.”

“It’s just this quarter round. I can do that myself. I’m pretty sure I told you last time I might have some stuff for you to do in the spring.”

I cast an exaggerated glance out into the yard.

“It’s not spring yet,” I said.

And for the record, I’m not “pretty sure” I told him that. I’m positive.

“I know, man, but I need some work,” he said.

I debated with myself for a moment, trying to decide if I wanted to take the conversation where it needed to be taken. I’m a non-confrontational person by nature, but some people need confronting.

Some people. Like him.

“I’m sorry if you need money. I don’t have any work for you right now. I told you I’d find you when I had something I needed done. But…”

I took a deep breath.

“I talked to the police about you,” I said.

This was a total lie, through and through. I’m normally not one to lie, but I didn’t really want to say I asked the guy at the grocery store about you and he said you could act like a “good nigger”, but that you weren’t one.

I suspected that would not be well received.

“And they told me a few things,” I finished.

“Like what?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I think you know what they told me.”

This was a test, to see if he’d corroborate what the man down at the store told me. Give a walkin’ dude some rope, and let him tie the noose himself.

The walkin’ dude’s face fell. He tried to roll his eyes.

“They told you I used to go in stores and take stuff?” he asked.

I nodded.

“That was juvenile, man! I ain’t doin’ that no more!”

I just looked at him.

“The first time you came by here you wanted me to take you up to K-Mart,” I said, rather pointedly.

“I told you, that was to see my sister!”

He took a step toward me. For an instant, I thought the situation was about to escalate, thought I was going to have to draw my gun for the first time in my life, but all he did was take his hands out of his jacket pockets so he could wave them around for emphasis.

“Man, I could tell you things about the cops, too!” he said.

“The cops don’t keep bothering me for money,” I said, and high-fived myself in my head. “I don’t care about them.”

“I see the cops every day, man. They axe me how I’m doing, just like they do anybody else.”

I didn’t respond.

“I ain’t never took nothing from somebody, never broke into no houses. I respect your property, man! I just did that stuff when I was younger. I’ve changed!”

“That may be, but I have to tell you: I don’t feel comfortable having someone who likes to take things that don’t belong to him coming around here all the time. I’m not calling you a thief; I’m just telling you how I feel.”

Anger flitted across his face, and once again I wondered if the situation was about to get more serious.

“I’m tellin’ you, man, I ain’t like that now. I’m almost forty years old. That was juvenile!”

“I’ll tell you what. In the spring, if I have anything for you to do, I’ll find you. I see you walk by all the time, so it won’t be hard. Until then, please don’t come here.”

He put his hands in his pockets, hung his head, and turned to go. I picked up the carpet cutter.

“Thanks a lot, man,” he said as he walked up the driveway. Sarcasm dripped from his voice. “You really made my day.”

The feeling’s mutual, buddy. The feeling’s mutual.

Almost a whole shed now.