Thursday, July 23, 2015

There was a fellow stabbed near death in Wichita this morning.

There was a shooting in a small town  north of Wichita.

And, about seven-thirty this morning two trucks pulled into the drive. Dog went ballistic.

It was the Mexican Crew for the roofing company.

About eleven-ten this morning I watched the crew depart, the job completed.

All roofing and underlayment stripped off. All underlayment replaced and new roofing replaced, all the crap they threw off the roof policed up and loaded on the truck for disposal.

They even went around the house three times (coounter clockwise and clockwise) with a very large magnet with wheels, policing up stray nails.

Dog looked . . . ? Well, like I did somewhat:


Thing looks good.

I even had several of the nosey neighbors drive by. A couple on four wheelers; a guy that hasn’t walked a mile in the past fifteen years walked by. Probably figured he needed the exercise.

And it rained this morning at seven.

I asked the crew foreman if he was seriously considering the work that morning and he assured me it would be all right. It was.

He asked me, when he had the crew and all the equipment loaded to leave, standing there with his thumb in the air, “Alright?”

Yeah, man. It was alright.

Hell. It even looked good.


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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