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Show what's bothering you, Jackson? You use too much soap on your plates." Sure. I got all those things, but when I tell my Linda what does she say? Let's make love, you'll feel better. And when I tell my doctor? Nothing. He says there's nothing wrong with me. Tells me to eat right and get some sleep. Stop smoking. "Your health is our concern," says the super. "You're going to break something." He is right, and whatever it is I can feel it starting to crack right now. "Cups!" I yell into his face. "Watch the soap!" he yells into mine. And I know that if we go any further I will end up without a job. But just then Chuck comes over and says something about how his chain hoist isn't working right, is slipping, and the bastard walks off to look at it. Sometimes I would like to punch guys like him but there are a lot of people I would like to punch, and I didn't want to think about that so I ran up four and pulled the mold. Every fucking boot heel was stuck to the plate, like they had been glued there, and it took me five minutes to pry them off. I gave the plate a good soaping after that. I didn't have any mold problems from then on and I'd been hitting it good for fifteen minutes or so, working so hard that my mind had gone blank like I wanted, when Donny comes back on. And right away my brain is bouncing around like a pinball. Where has he been, in the john? What did he do with that sandwich? What's he going to do about his Linda? Jesus. |
