Geezers II

Handyman Burt's back today, doing scary TC things with aluminum siding, tin snips, drills. I hear him out there in the heat, whirring and pounding and cussing.

Suddenly the back door bangs open and he yells, "Hey! Gotta band-aid?" and heads for the bathroom. I'm right behind him. 1-inch gash on the outside of his right hand. Blood all over.

"Oh, Burt, you're gonna need stitches! This is deep!" I wad up t.p., press it on the wound.

"Nah, nah, just a band-aid." More blood. "Oh. You got some tape?" I get tape. "Just put the band-aid--"

"I'm putting two!"

"Nah, just the band-aid, then the tape. OK, good, wrap it around now. OK, thanks. Aw geez, I got blood all ova! Well, thank you very much, Young Lady." And he's out the door and back to work.

I follow him. He's on his knees, peering under the TC. "I seen a vomit unda hea, y'know," he offers.

"VOMIT?" I screech. Nobody's been sick that I know of. And certainly not under THERE.

"Yeah, you know what kinda vomit, right?"

I have NO IDEA.

"A RAT. 'Bout this long." His hands--the right one brightly taped, are about 16"--apart.

I say Ick and Yech, standard Young Lady Noises, then remember I'm in the desert, and there are desert rats who belong here far more than I do, so we agree about this, and I go back in the house and sit down here.

***30 mins.***

Door flies open again, he's back in the bathroom, not calling for me. I go anyway, peer around the corner. The band-aids and tape are all a slithery red mess. "We gotta do this ova," he mutters. "It was just startin to coajulate good, but I hit it on the fence. You gotta watch out with these things, Young Lady, they're very shahp."

He let me put Neosporin on this time, at least.

Comments

[fredf]

Keep the geezer stories going. That means ya gotta have sumpin else broke around your place. But wouldn't it be worth it for the stories?

[Doc Rock]

No worries--it's always sumpin broke around here. Or he finds stuff to improve. He's on contract, evidently. And we've never seen a bill.