MAY
Mostly consists of finishing teaching high school.
JUNE
Head out to Athens, GA to visit Ben Gray and hopefully try out for Chain Lightning. 6/6-6/14
Visit Joey in SD and help him move. 6/16-6/20ish
Leave for Prague, play worlds, visit (Budapest, Italy(?), Brussels(?), Sprouts(?)) 6/22-7/17
JULY
First half spent in Europe.
Oregon: portland and coast. 7/19-???
and/or
Hawaii: hang with Moose (and squirrel?) in the pacific. Dates unspecific.
and/or
Wildwood in NJ? 7/24 and 7/25.
AUGUST
Squeeze the last bit of fun out of the summer.
First official day back for teachers: 8/11
Thoughts? Suggestions? Free places to stay?
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Leaving the House
"First attempt," Austin called out from the front door. He closed it behind him, leaving his roommate Henry inside checking email. Six steps out he realized the first thing he forgot, turned on his toe, and let himself back in through the front door.
"Strike one," Henry said when he heard the door open. He didn't look up.
"Forgot my phone," Explained Austin.
Henry pecked at the keys of his laptop.
"Second try," and out Austin went into Tucson's evening. He was headed for practice, dressed neck to ankle in synthetics designed to wick sweat while retaining body heat. This time he had his hand on the car door before he remembered something. "Jug," he sighed. A few seconds later and he was pushing through the front door once again.
"Come back to tell me you remembered everything?"
"Jug."
"Gotta have water. Strike two."
"Third attempt. See you later tonight."
"Hopefully not in the next minute."
Austin sat down in his parents' Mercury, started the engine, and then shut it off.
"You're out."
"I told Q I'd bring his jersey."
"Nice of you."
"Fourth try. Hasta."
"I think the over-under was posted at 6 tonight."
Austin didn't get far this time.
"Doesn't count if the door didn't close."
"You said 'hasta'. Strike four."
"Can you lob me one? These curve balls are killers."
"I'm pretty sure we're already playing Tee Ball. Your stuff isn't exactly trying to elude you."
"Peace."
Socks, a hat, an iPod, and then the car FM transmitter all had to be recuperated one at a time soon after.
"Strike a million."
"What inning are we in? I feel like I've looked a season's worth of pitches. You're not even keeping track."
"This is like a cricket match man. We're playing 'til you knock over this fucking wicket."
"I thought I was on offense."
"My metaphor has shifted."
"Have you seen my headphones?"
"Now why would they be anywhere but attached to your iPod?"
"You answer first."
"No."
"How should I know."
"Is practice over yet?"
"Why, what time is it? Oh shit, my watch."
"Saved you the million and oneth strike there."
"Later."
Austin had the car in reverse, his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat, and was waiting for the F-150 to pass before backing out when he remembered that he owed Juan $20.
"Is there anything you won't be bringing to practice?"
"Shit, I only have eighteen. Can I borrow two bucks?"
"Will you take it in quarters?"
"You only have quarters?"
"Well, mostly. There will be a few dimes and nickles to round out the whole two hundred cents. But no copper, honest."
"I'm gonna need a baggy."
"Stop whining, you won't have to have it longer than ten minutes."
"Thanks."
"Unless of course things continue along this rather tightly fit trend line. Strike infinity, by the way."
"Nth attempt."
"But it's a countable infinity."
Henry saw Austin's keys sitting on the table and chuckled. He heard Austin's footsteps fade, stop, and start again back towards the door. He met his room mate keys in hand.
Austin opened the door and paused. He frowned at Henry, furrowed his eyebrows.
"It's okay, still within aleph naught."
"No it's not that."
"What, then?"
"I didn't even come back for my keys."
"I don't think counting this as one or two trips will significantly change your stats on the night."
"..."
"What else did you forget?"
Austin thought hard. A look of supreme concentration on his face. "I don't remember."
"Well start walkin' that a way, it'll come back to you."
"Dammit."
"Maybe this will help." Henry closed the door. Austin knocked.
"Clif bar."
"You know I've always thought that eating those was a pretty forgettable experience."
"Lock the door behind me this time."
"I mean they have different flavors printed on the package, but it's all just light brown tasting in the end."
"I'm going to practice."
"Come hell or high water. Did you remember your water?"
"Days ago."
"You ain't kidding."
***Comments such as 'funny' or 'unfunny' are greatly appreciated***
"Strike one," Henry said when he heard the door open. He didn't look up.
"Forgot my phone," Explained Austin.
Henry pecked at the keys of his laptop.
"Second try," and out Austin went into Tucson's evening. He was headed for practice, dressed neck to ankle in synthetics designed to wick sweat while retaining body heat. This time he had his hand on the car door before he remembered something. "Jug," he sighed. A few seconds later and he was pushing through the front door once again.
"Come back to tell me you remembered everything?"
"Jug."
"Gotta have water. Strike two."
"Third attempt. See you later tonight."
"Hopefully not in the next minute."
Austin sat down in his parents' Mercury, started the engine, and then shut it off.
"You're out."
"I told Q I'd bring his jersey."
"Nice of you."
"Fourth try. Hasta."
"I think the over-under was posted at 6 tonight."
Austin didn't get far this time.
"Doesn't count if the door didn't close."
"You said 'hasta'. Strike four."
"Can you lob me one? These curve balls are killers."
"I'm pretty sure we're already playing Tee Ball. Your stuff isn't exactly trying to elude you."
"Peace."
Socks, a hat, an iPod, and then the car FM transmitter all had to be recuperated one at a time soon after.
"Strike a million."
"What inning are we in? I feel like I've looked a season's worth of pitches. You're not even keeping track."
"This is like a cricket match man. We're playing 'til you knock over this fucking wicket."
"I thought I was on offense."
"My metaphor has shifted."
"Have you seen my headphones?"
"Now why would they be anywhere but attached to your iPod?"
"You answer first."
"No."
"How should I know."
"Is practice over yet?"
"Why, what time is it? Oh shit, my watch."
"Saved you the million and oneth strike there."
"Later."
Austin had the car in reverse, his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat, and was waiting for the F-150 to pass before backing out when he remembered that he owed Juan $20.
"Is there anything you won't be bringing to practice?"
"Shit, I only have eighteen. Can I borrow two bucks?"
"Will you take it in quarters?"
"You only have quarters?"
"Well, mostly. There will be a few dimes and nickles to round out the whole two hundred cents. But no copper, honest."
"I'm gonna need a baggy."
"Stop whining, you won't have to have it longer than ten minutes."
"Thanks."
"Unless of course things continue along this rather tightly fit trend line. Strike infinity, by the way."
"Nth attempt."
"But it's a countable infinity."
Henry saw Austin's keys sitting on the table and chuckled. He heard Austin's footsteps fade, stop, and start again back towards the door. He met his room mate keys in hand.
Austin opened the door and paused. He frowned at Henry, furrowed his eyebrows.
"It's okay, still within aleph naught."
"No it's not that."
"What, then?"
"I didn't even come back for my keys."
"I don't think counting this as one or two trips will significantly change your stats on the night."
"..."
"What else did you forget?"
Austin thought hard. A look of supreme concentration on his face. "I don't remember."
"Well start walkin' that a way, it'll come back to you."
"Dammit."
"Maybe this will help." Henry closed the door. Austin knocked.
"Clif bar."
"You know I've always thought that eating those was a pretty forgettable experience."
"Lock the door behind me this time."
"I mean they have different flavors printed on the package, but it's all just light brown tasting in the end."
"I'm going to practice."
"Come hell or high water. Did you remember your water?"
"Days ago."
"You ain't kidding."
***Comments such as 'funny' or 'unfunny' are greatly appreciated***
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Holly's Problem
The classic rock rang out, pingy, as it bounced around the hard walls and floor of the janitor's closet. The big rolling garbage bin, with its scaffolding containing the usual cleansers and scrubbers, sat just outside the door in the hallway. Holly reflected on the circumstances that brought her to the depths to which she was now seriously contemplating dropping.
So many fruitless trips to the grocery store, this one supremely necessary item deferred time and time again. TP is such an intermittent purchase, it just never made the handwritten list. Holly had first noticed a scarcity in bathroom tissue nearly a month ago, when the number of rolls fell into the single digits. The bathroom cupboard was physically bursting with two-ply at the beginning of the year, thanks to her roommate's Costco membership, it felt like they'd never be at a loss for the stuff. She realized now what a luxury that original supply had been, a mountain of the super fluffy stuff, fit for kings, queens, and celebrities. Connoisseurs of the finer things. At the time, she snubbed public toilets and the pathetic brown near-bark in their stalls. Such crassness. To be expected to endure? To skimp on TP? Please.
But for the last six days, Holly had been thanking her lucky stars for the brown stuff. She left her house in the morning thighs squeezed tight, and made for the faculty restroom at Garfield High first thing. She made sure to use the facilities again during the day, and especially right before she left for the day, just in case her lazy roommate Kara failed to load up the dispenser again. Day after day she was disappointed to see Kara's procrastination continue on. And on. Holly found herself staying longer in her classroom, grading papers, planning, re-organizing. All excuses to stick around the high school campus longer, to cut down on the marathon wait between quitting time and the next morning, during which she would have access to only a paper-free bathroom.
A normal human would have just driven, or even walked the half mile to the grocery store and picked up a six pack of Charmin, but the whole point of buying bulk items at Costco was to avoid the expense of all that packaging! The per-roll cost was more than tripled at Safeway! The economics compelled Holly to wait it out, for surely her roommate was due to make a Costco run any day now. Wasn't she hurting for some high-quality, ultra-soft, perforated squares too? Where did she 'take care of things' these days anyway... Holly was determined not to cave and lay down her own cash on the exorbitant fees at the local grocer, no matter how convenient. Call it pride. Call it financial prudence. You couldn't call it rational, but some things were more important that rationality. It was only after Holly was caught pilfering single rolls of the most generic of generics brand toilet paper, and admonished for it, that she realized this was not one of those things.
When it was just three rolls left at home, then two, and finally one, Holly began to fight the unspoken battle with Kara. It started with small stuff, like estimating Kara's TP consumption. Judging from the rate at which the radius of paper decreased, and taking into account Holly's own, modest use, she became convinced of Kara's frivolous habits. Was she one of those lunatics who had to completely coat her hand with the stuff before tidying up down there? When the penultimate roll was half-spent, Holly was on the fence about swapping it out for the last one and hording the remnants to herself. Would Kara notice? Holly spent a good ten minutes weighing the decision, still astride the porcelain throne, before coming to her senses. She caught her reflection in the mirror as she washed her hands, and nearly muttered out loud 'Get a hold of yourself, H.'
But she didn't confront Kara either. She just figured her resourcefulness and willpower would win out, and Kara would be forced back across town to Costco for another mother load out of personal need. She didn't expect it to last two days, much less six, and now looking into the supply closet, at those shelves and shelves of unpleasant, uncomfortable, but nevertheless effective cylinders of wipes, Holly found a loophole that would give her an edge in the financial battle for wash closet supremacy. Here was a free and bottomless cache to tide her over as long as it took. Kara's determination, though impressive, would never last. Holly looked left, looked right, then reached out and placed her hand on the only thing she'd stolen in her whole life.
It didn't last long, that first roll. And Holly was careful to make sure the halls were deserted before scraping another. But like all thieves, she got cocky, and she got careless. In a rush to make it home in time for her favorite sitcom one night, maybe four rolls into her addiction, Holly looked left, but not right. She stuffed her booty in her purse, in full view of Dave, with whom she'd previously had a friendly and mutually respected relationship. He cleaned her floors twice a week, emptied her trash daily, and once in a while surprised her with freshly cleaned erasers for the chalk board. That special treatment ceased, of course, when he caught her red-handed. At first he was shocked.
"Holly Schmidt!" he blurted.
"Dave!" Holly returned.
But the surprise was soon replaced with something worse. For David, it was like finding the mouse who'd been leaving small black pellets of evidence all around the house. He'd known for some time that the quantities of TP just didn't add up. Inventory was something he took very seriously, and besides knowing the exact number of every item in his closet, he even noticed the missing rolls simply by the small change in his stacking pattern. Here was the culprit. So pathetic, he couldn't feel anything but contempt.
For Holly, it was like looking an oncoming car in the headlights. She stood frozen with embarrassment. There's was nothing else to say. Her mind raced, and for a moment she considered a bluff: just taking some to the ladies room? No. Dave would never buy it. He probably knew exactly how much was in there this minute, and would never have let it drop to zero anyhow. She closed her gaping mouth, finally, and replaced the still wrapped evidence. No other words were exchanged. In fact she couldn't remember saying anything to him since. She couldn't even muster up a 'Hello' in the hallways. She would never recover an equal footing with Dave.
The meeting with Principle Golightly was quick, but nearly as awkward as the hallway bust. He didn't say much. Her building key was revoked. She was asked to come and go through the front office in the future, and to sign in with Golightly's secretary when staying after hours. Golightly didn't have the heart to fire a teacher over a matter of a handful of TP rolls, but he might as well have asked for her resignation because it didn't take long before the whole faculty knew. When the first student made a sideways comment about wiping the chalk board clean of the past, she knew it was time to leave Garfield forever.
But now she was happy, free of her miserable history, and beginning her life anew as a new type of educator, working in the children's museum across town. She moved out of her place with Kara, who as it turned out been frequenting the Ace Hardware at the end of the block the whole time, flirting with two of the male cashiers to keep from being called out. Holly had her own Costco membership now, and lived just a few hundred yards away in complete security, only a moment's notice from all the thick satisfying layers Holly Schmidt could ever want.
So many fruitless trips to the grocery store, this one supremely necessary item deferred time and time again. TP is such an intermittent purchase, it just never made the handwritten list. Holly had first noticed a scarcity in bathroom tissue nearly a month ago, when the number of rolls fell into the single digits. The bathroom cupboard was physically bursting with two-ply at the beginning of the year, thanks to her roommate's Costco membership, it felt like they'd never be at a loss for the stuff. She realized now what a luxury that original supply had been, a mountain of the super fluffy stuff, fit for kings, queens, and celebrities. Connoisseurs of the finer things. At the time, she snubbed public toilets and the pathetic brown near-bark in their stalls. Such crassness. To be expected to endure? To skimp on TP? Please.
But for the last six days, Holly had been thanking her lucky stars for the brown stuff. She left her house in the morning thighs squeezed tight, and made for the faculty restroom at Garfield High first thing. She made sure to use the facilities again during the day, and especially right before she left for the day, just in case her lazy roommate Kara failed to load up the dispenser again. Day after day she was disappointed to see Kara's procrastination continue on. And on. Holly found herself staying longer in her classroom, grading papers, planning, re-organizing. All excuses to stick around the high school campus longer, to cut down on the marathon wait between quitting time and the next morning, during which she would have access to only a paper-free bathroom.
A normal human would have just driven, or even walked the half mile to the grocery store and picked up a six pack of Charmin, but the whole point of buying bulk items at Costco was to avoid the expense of all that packaging! The per-roll cost was more than tripled at Safeway! The economics compelled Holly to wait it out, for surely her roommate was due to make a Costco run any day now. Wasn't she hurting for some high-quality, ultra-soft, perforated squares too? Where did she 'take care of things' these days anyway... Holly was determined not to cave and lay down her own cash on the exorbitant fees at the local grocer, no matter how convenient. Call it pride. Call it financial prudence. You couldn't call it rational, but some things were more important that rationality. It was only after Holly was caught pilfering single rolls of the most generic of generics brand toilet paper, and admonished for it, that she realized this was not one of those things.
When it was just three rolls left at home, then two, and finally one, Holly began to fight the unspoken battle with Kara. It started with small stuff, like estimating Kara's TP consumption. Judging from the rate at which the radius of paper decreased, and taking into account Holly's own, modest use, she became convinced of Kara's frivolous habits. Was she one of those lunatics who had to completely coat her hand with the stuff before tidying up down there? When the penultimate roll was half-spent, Holly was on the fence about swapping it out for the last one and hording the remnants to herself. Would Kara notice? Holly spent a good ten minutes weighing the decision, still astride the porcelain throne, before coming to her senses. She caught her reflection in the mirror as she washed her hands, and nearly muttered out loud 'Get a hold of yourself, H.'
But she didn't confront Kara either. She just figured her resourcefulness and willpower would win out, and Kara would be forced back across town to Costco for another mother load out of personal need. She didn't expect it to last two days, much less six, and now looking into the supply closet, at those shelves and shelves of unpleasant, uncomfortable, but nevertheless effective cylinders of wipes, Holly found a loophole that would give her an edge in the financial battle for wash closet supremacy. Here was a free and bottomless cache to tide her over as long as it took. Kara's determination, though impressive, would never last. Holly looked left, looked right, then reached out and placed her hand on the only thing she'd stolen in her whole life.
It didn't last long, that first roll. And Holly was careful to make sure the halls were deserted before scraping another. But like all thieves, she got cocky, and she got careless. In a rush to make it home in time for her favorite sitcom one night, maybe four rolls into her addiction, Holly looked left, but not right. She stuffed her booty in her purse, in full view of Dave, with whom she'd previously had a friendly and mutually respected relationship. He cleaned her floors twice a week, emptied her trash daily, and once in a while surprised her with freshly cleaned erasers for the chalk board. That special treatment ceased, of course, when he caught her red-handed. At first he was shocked.
"Holly Schmidt!" he blurted.
"Dave!" Holly returned.
But the surprise was soon replaced with something worse. For David, it was like finding the mouse who'd been leaving small black pellets of evidence all around the house. He'd known for some time that the quantities of TP just didn't add up. Inventory was something he took very seriously, and besides knowing the exact number of every item in his closet, he even noticed the missing rolls simply by the small change in his stacking pattern. Here was the culprit. So pathetic, he couldn't feel anything but contempt.
For Holly, it was like looking an oncoming car in the headlights. She stood frozen with embarrassment. There's was nothing else to say. Her mind raced, and for a moment she considered a bluff: just taking some to the ladies room? No. Dave would never buy it. He probably knew exactly how much was in there this minute, and would never have let it drop to zero anyhow. She closed her gaping mouth, finally, and replaced the still wrapped evidence. No other words were exchanged. In fact she couldn't remember saying anything to him since. She couldn't even muster up a 'Hello' in the hallways. She would never recover an equal footing with Dave.
The meeting with Principle Golightly was quick, but nearly as awkward as the hallway bust. He didn't say much. Her building key was revoked. She was asked to come and go through the front office in the future, and to sign in with Golightly's secretary when staying after hours. Golightly didn't have the heart to fire a teacher over a matter of a handful of TP rolls, but he might as well have asked for her resignation because it didn't take long before the whole faculty knew. When the first student made a sideways comment about wiping the chalk board clean of the past, she knew it was time to leave Garfield forever.
But now she was happy, free of her miserable history, and beginning her life anew as a new type of educator, working in the children's museum across town. She moved out of her place with Kara, who as it turned out been frequenting the Ace Hardware at the end of the block the whole time, flirting with two of the male cashiers to keep from being called out. Holly had her own Costco membership now, and lived just a few hundred yards away in complete security, only a moment's notice from all the thick satisfying layers Holly Schmidt could ever want.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The West Kids (pt I)
"Shit man, what the fuck happened?"
"I dunno, Squeaks."
"The fuck you mean, you don't know? The boys say you and Chief rocked a whole mess of gremlins. How many were there, man?"
"I dunno. I dunno. I thought we 'as spiked for sure."
"Spiked! Fuckin spiked! You 'as with Chief, hombre! Ain't nobody gonna spike Chief. Not never."
"I dunno, man. I dunno. Seemed like we 'as gonna be spiked."
"Spiked. Fuck, hombre."
"I 'as thinkin' spiked for sures."
"Reno and Tims sayin' the Grems 'as waitin'. But that Chief seen 'em comin'. That he knew they 'as there."
"I didn't know. Chief didn't say nothin' to me. Fuck, Squeaks, I never been so close to gettin' spiked before."
"No shit, dumbass. Tims 'as saying a mess of Grems. Maybe a baker's."
"Maybe. I didn't count 'em. Fuck, Squeaks. I don't think I can roll for a while. I can't fuckin' see straight anymore."
"Can't see straight?"
"Nah, Squeaks. I keep thinkin' about gettin' spiked. I keep seein' those Grems. I dunno, maybe there was a baker's. Maybe more I dunno. But I keep seein' ' em Squeaks. They 's waitin' just out of view. I keep lookin', thinkin' I 'as gonna catch em there. But they ain't there Squeaks. I just think I see 'em."
"You just got shook. Fuck man, we 'as all been shook. 'Member when I ate shit on the stairs outside the Public? And I 'tato chipped my rear? I had to fucking carry my mount over a mile through DT. I was shook. I saw all kinds of shit. Them shadows can fuck with you when you shook. Shit man, it was fifteen minutes but it felt like a whole damn winter 'till I saw the Tracks and Aydee on the watch."
"How long 'til you got unshook?"
"I dunno. Not too long. You be unshook soon."
"I dunno, Squeaks. I dunno. I thought we 'as spiked for sures."
"But you wasn't. You 'as with the Chief."
"Chief needs his knees too. Chief made a guts too."
"Nah. Chief is different."
"..."
"Chief is different, Frank."
"I dunno."
"Saddle up, Frank."
"Nah, sirs. I can't"
"You broken?"
"Kinda sirs. My eyes' broken."
"Eyes?"
"Can't see right, sirs."
"Mister Doctor look at em?"
"He did. He can't find what's broken, but I know they 'as broken, sirs. I can't see right. I can't roll yet, sirs."
"You on Duty again then, Frank."
"Yeah, sirs."
"When you figure your eyes' be fixed?"
"Hard to say, sirs."
"Tomorrow."
"Nah, sirs."
"Week? More?"
"Hard to say, sirs."
"I need you to roll, Frank."
"I know sirs, but I can't. I 's broken. My eyes' broken."
"You on Duty 'til they ain't."
"Yeah, sirs."
"I don't expect to hear a word of complaint about shit-cleanin' unless it's after you tell me you 'as fixed."
"Nah, sirs."
"Nah."
"..."
"You 's strong in the saddle. You 's a good roller, Frank."
"Not without my eyes."
"I guess not."
"It's like they 'as taken from me. Like somebody switched mine out and put a mixed up pair back in."
"..."
"I'm on Duty, I guess."
"You let me know when you fixed."
"Yeah, sirs."
"I dunno, Squeaks."
"The fuck you mean, you don't know? The boys say you and Chief rocked a whole mess of gremlins. How many were there, man?"
"I dunno. I dunno. I thought we 'as spiked for sure."
"Spiked! Fuckin spiked! You 'as with Chief, hombre! Ain't nobody gonna spike Chief. Not never."
"I dunno, man. I dunno. Seemed like we 'as gonna be spiked."
"Spiked. Fuck, hombre."
"I 'as thinkin' spiked for sures."
"Reno and Tims sayin' the Grems 'as waitin'. But that Chief seen 'em comin'. That he knew they 'as there."
"I didn't know. Chief didn't say nothin' to me. Fuck, Squeaks, I never been so close to gettin' spiked before."
"No shit, dumbass. Tims 'as saying a mess of Grems. Maybe a baker's."
"Maybe. I didn't count 'em. Fuck, Squeaks. I don't think I can roll for a while. I can't fuckin' see straight anymore."
"Can't see straight?"
"Nah, Squeaks. I keep thinkin' about gettin' spiked. I keep seein' those Grems. I dunno, maybe there was a baker's. Maybe more I dunno. But I keep seein' ' em Squeaks. They 's waitin' just out of view. I keep lookin', thinkin' I 'as gonna catch em there. But they ain't there Squeaks. I just think I see 'em."
"You just got shook. Fuck man, we 'as all been shook. 'Member when I ate shit on the stairs outside the Public? And I 'tato chipped my rear? I had to fucking carry my mount over a mile through DT. I was shook. I saw all kinds of shit. Them shadows can fuck with you when you shook. Shit man, it was fifteen minutes but it felt like a whole damn winter 'till I saw the Tracks and Aydee on the watch."
"How long 'til you got unshook?"
"I dunno. Not too long. You be unshook soon."
"I dunno, Squeaks. I dunno. I thought we 'as spiked for sures."
"But you wasn't. You 'as with the Chief."
"Chief needs his knees too. Chief made a guts too."
"Nah. Chief is different."
"..."
"Chief is different, Frank."
"I dunno."
"Saddle up, Frank."
"Nah, sirs. I can't"
"You broken?"
"Kinda sirs. My eyes' broken."
"Eyes?"
"Can't see right, sirs."
"Mister Doctor look at em?"
"He did. He can't find what's broken, but I know they 'as broken, sirs. I can't see right. I can't roll yet, sirs."
"You on Duty again then, Frank."
"Yeah, sirs."
"When you figure your eyes' be fixed?"
"Hard to say, sirs."
"Tomorrow."
"Nah, sirs."
"Week? More?"
"Hard to say, sirs."
"I need you to roll, Frank."
"I know sirs, but I can't. I 's broken. My eyes' broken."
"You on Duty 'til they ain't."
"Yeah, sirs."
"I don't expect to hear a word of complaint about shit-cleanin' unless it's after you tell me you 'as fixed."
"Nah, sirs."
"Nah."
"..."
"You 's strong in the saddle. You 's a good roller, Frank."
"Not without my eyes."
"I guess not."
"It's like they 'as taken from me. Like somebody switched mine out and put a mixed up pair back in."
"..."
"I'm on Duty, I guess."
"You let me know when you fixed."
"Yeah, sirs."
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