Back in the late winter of 2003, I was a “seasonal” helper for a Union plumbing outfit in the cities. My work was only supposed to consist of handing tools and digging ditches. But at $12 an hour the supervisor encouraged me to act as an “apprentice”. As anyone who works or worked in the construction trade knows you run into a lot of characters, some more intriguing than others. There were your addicts who were working for the next fix, your heavy hung over drinker, the Born Again Christian recovering addict, the asshole, the guy who didn’t speak English, and so on, and so on, then me.
My Foreman was a Jehovah witness, just for privacy I’ll call him” Scott”, who was about my age and thought everything I did in life was wrong. He mission was to convert me into his thinking. I supposed he thought the best way to get me to conform was to let me know how much my life sucked. I already knew this but it couldn’t have sucked worse than going door to door on my weekends off passing out Watch Tower magazines, ” Excuse me, Madam or Sir, do you know Jesus? I couldn’t help but notice the fine knocker you have.” ,no thanks. Anyways, Scott went on some vacation with his family in January and I was assigned to a Fat Nerdy Foreman named Bob.
Ah yes, Bob.
Bob was an aged older Plumber who pronounced his Polish heritage whenever and wherever he had a chance, “I’m a Pollack ya know!”. All I could do was laugh as if watching a mentally disabled man proclaim his retardation. He also held a degree in Theater and Arts. The man was an expert on everything. For example…
During the scorching summer months, a crew of us were assigned to dig ditches for some town homes in Ramsey and it was hot. I mean it was so hot your ball sac would Bat Wing to your inner thighs! So of course the peons, meaning summer help and apprentices, got to do this work by our lonesome and the journeymen were in the A/C unit homes doing finishing work. It went with the territory. Well Bob just happened to be in charge that day. So I suggested to the other apprentices that we get Bob to bite on a subject at break. This would allow us at least an hour of break time….at least. My friend Nate decided that I should come up with the subject matter since it was my idea. “Okay! What do you guys want to learn today?” I asked. Nate said it had to be something outrageous. Then it clicked, I said, “Time Travel, Bitches.”. I was sure Bob was a Trekkie. I told Nate that during break we would have to start bantering back and forth about time travel at the start of break.
During the scorching summer months, a crew of us were assigned to dig ditches for some town homes in Ramsey and it was hot. I mean it was so hot your ball sac would Bat Wing to your inner thighs! So of course the peons, meaning summer help and apprentices, got to do this work by our lonesome and the journeymen were in the A/C unit homes doing finishing work. It went with the territory. Well Bob just happened to be in charge that day. So I suggested to the other apprentices that we get Bob to bite on a subject at break. This would allow us at least an hour of break time….at least. My friend Nate decided that I should come up with the subject matter since it was my idea. “Okay! What do you guys want to learn today?” I asked. Nate said it had to be something outrageous. Then it clicked, I said, “Time Travel, Bitches.”. I was sure Bob was a Trekkie. I told Nate that during break we would have to start bantering back and forth about time travel at the start of break.
Sure enough at break time we all filed in to a air conditioned town home unit. Nate and I made sure to sit opposite sides of the room, keeping Bob in the middle. I wasn’t quite sure how to begin and Nate kept staring at me, eyes wide open as to say, “Let’s go, fucker….”. So I started.
“What if Jesus was a regular dude in our time and traveled back in time with some cool magic tricks just to set up Christianity and self worship?”
Nate shot me a look like he could actually believe that, then caught himself, “Time travel is fucking impossible you stupid shit, and why would Jesus travel back in time to get his ass kicked?”
That was a bit harsh. We both glanced at Bob sitting his fat ass on an empty overturned 5 gallon paint bucket. His body hunched over his generic Honey Bun, death gripped as if someone was looking to steal a bite. I started to speak, “Fuck you. You think going one night of drinking without shitting the bed is impossible. I bet you would like to travel back in time to change a few of those.”. Everyone looked up
“What?”
Just before Nate was about respond, but then Bob took the bait, “Ya know Einstein had already developed a method of time travel!”, and then he laughed. We all laughed…for an hour and a half as Bob went on and on about time travel and sucking down his Honey Bun in-between breaths.
That was Bob.
Fast forward to early January, here I was in the darkest days of winter. The temps have dropped so far below zero none of the PVC pipe I was gluing was holding. I was miserable and my hands were exposed to the temp. Nobody else went to work that day expect me and Bob. We both apparently needed the paycheck. Bob, all bundled up in his Carhart bibs listening to his Walkman, which was playing the brand new children s book, Harry Potter. He was so excited about it, trying to tell me about this boy who finds out his parents are dead wizards, blah, blah, blah. The whole time all I can think is how much he looks like a damn Walrus involved with some weird Naval radio experiment.
As I was working and listening to Bob mumble and snicker to his story on tape, I was fighting 3 inch PVC pipe and glue. I was having a hell of a time getting it to stay without pushing itself out. The Glue wasn’t made to adhere in these cold conditions and my hands weren’t either. So there was a few times I had to ask Bob for help to twist and hold some ends. He in the course was getting irritated with me and bitched about it, “Do I need to hold your hand, Killer?”
I knew he was mainly pissed because I kept interrupting his fairy tale of some pathetic wizard prodigy. So tired of asking for his damned help I grabbed a angle drill, tapped Bob on the shoulder, and pointed to the next unit. I mouthed “Alligator Flu” to him in which he gave me a weird look back. I know you just tried it after reading this.
“I’m going to start roughing in the other unit, Douche!”
“Good! Do that. Maybe by noon it will warm up!”
What in the hell? Warm up from 10 below? What a Pollack.
So I probably was working for about 10 good solid minutes, buzzin holes, eating wood chips. Then all of a sudden in a loud, you better get your ass over here, “CHAD!”, was shouted from Bob. I couldn’t possibly think why the hell he would need me right now other than to replace the batteries on his Walkman because his fat fingers are unable to open it. I walk in the unit and see Bob walking right in to my personal space.
“I need your help”, Bob said, nose to nose.
“Okay, with what?”, backing away a bit.
Then at that moment Bob turned his back to me pulled his bib collar down a bit and asked, “Is there shit coming out my back?”
The man had gotten so excited like a little kid, about his new “book on tape”, he held his urges until finally it overcame him. He shit his trousers! He shit is bibs so hard he felt it rise up his back and possibly to his neck line!
“I can’t see a thing Bob”, trying not to laugh.
He turns back at me, “I’m going to the Gas station to clean up. I’ll be back shortly.”
This tub of turd never ceases to amaze me! Any normal person would have just called it a day! I personally would have just left and said nothing! YOU SHIT YOUR PANTS LISTENING TO HARRY POTTER!
I watched Bob step into his car and take a seat. It has to have spread even more. His ass must be so raw and itchy right now. As he started to drive away he stopped and waved me over. I walk over to his crap mobile holding my breath and telling myself there is no way I am helping him clean himself!
“I appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t Bob”
Just like that he drove to the nearest Gas station. I of course hightailed it to the crew of heating guys a few units over. I opened the door to their unit and yelled, I mean yelled, “BOB SHIT HIS BIBS!”. Dead silence. Then the whole unit erupted in laughter. In between laughs and jabs I told them what took place. I also told them I was not supposed to let anyone know. They promised they wouldn’t.
About an hour later Bob arrived back from his cleanup. He got out of the car and I could see that he came back with a couple of those Honey Buns he loves so much. I met him at the car as he was getting out.
“Feeling better?”, not that I really cared.
“Much! I got you a pastry.”
“No thanks, I’m allergic to E coli.”
“I washed my ha..”
“Hey Bob! Shitty day, huh!” , interrupted from the Heated unit garage. We could hear them laughing. Bob looked at them and then back to me.
“You told them.”
“I had to Bob. That’s a heavy burden on a guy to hold in.”
“You could have told your Priest!”
“I’m Lutheran”, unapologetic.
Bob started to walk back to his work area, “Get back to work. We’re leaving at noon.”. He then turned to the heating guys in the garage doorway, “Fuck you!”. With that I went back to what I was doing and Bob went back to his Harry Potter and at noon we had left.
1killerlife 