“Damit Callaway! You make my life a living hell! You know that?” Ox said as he stumbled into my shop drunk, again. I could smell the moonshine on him from ten feet away. “Did you know you make my life hell?”
I didn’t respond; experience taught me talking to the son of our little enclave’s “mayor” when he was drunk only added fuel to his fire. I turned back to my work and continued on.
“You know, you’re lucky. No one else in our little village has the experience you have,” he said. “But you know what? I think you are full of it. I think you’re a faker. If my daddy hadn’t lost his hands he’d be the one in here workin’, and you’d be out on your ass. I’d kick you out if I could.”
He wasn’t far off. In another life, the life before this hell, I...
"I mean, how often do you get an opportunity like this?"
One thing I loved, and hated, about Kara, she always did her damndest to fix your problems, even if you had no desire whatsoever to fix it.
I know this about her and is probably why, subconsciously, I told her about my current predicament. In my mind I wanted someone to listen to me complain, to have a sounding board, just to vent.
But no, I asked my one friend that can't leave a problem untouched. I could have asked anyone else close to me, and I could have screamed it into the void of a caring face.
I asked Kara.
I barely got the thought out before her mind was working up ways of fixing it, of talking me off the ledge, of convincing me how stupid I was, and to do what she...
There is a shit ton, pardon ma french, of money to be made as a landfill miner, but I ‘spect ya already know that.
I started out as a heavy equipment operator, ma job was to make sure all the garbage dumped was packed down good'n'tight and then bury it.
It was a good job.
For the first 5 or 6 years I kept ma mind occupied by smokin' cigarettes. I'd just smoke one after the other and push the trash around, bury it, keep the dump goin'. It was good honest work, ya got over the smell eventually and we got insurance outta it.
But anyway, I'd drive ma dozer around and smoke like a chimney all day ‘til ma wife, God Bless her, told me I had to quit. I told her smokin' weren't any worse than the trash air I was breathin' all day long.