Parrothead Ramblings

Thor takes charge of the deconstruction of my fence. I want his job.
Well, it's officially started. "Crime Dog's Margaritaville West" has broken ground. The Fetching Mrs. Crime Dog and I finally decided to catch up with the Joneses and have a swimming pool put in the backyard. We've been talking for weeks with the builder's salesmen, engineers, construction supervisors, gophers, you name it, and today the real deal started: a bunch of guys showed to dig a really big-ass hole in my backyard. Wanna hear something really strange? They all speak English. Who'da thunk it?

And I learned something. Something important. I want to start a new career. I want to be that guy on the Bobcat up there.

He's a really nice guy, patient with all my stupid questions and everything, and he took no-nonsense charge of his crew as soon as their feet hit the ground. But that's not what's important now, is it? The important thing is:

He gets paid to tear shit up.

He wasn't about to let his underlings do the fun stuff. Dude has arms like Thor, and a sledgehammer to match them. I walked out there and watched him literally swinging for the fences with that thing as he knocked out about a two-foot section of my cinder block fence so his Bobcat would fit. Now that looks like fun. Now he's on that Bobcat, removing huge chunks of my real estate with each scoop. If that were my Bobcat, I'd have the headphones on, listening to A1A, with a couple of beer cozies on each side. No deadlines, no calendars, no goddamn phone ringing, no pissed off people, no paperwork. Just me and my big ass shovel, tearing shit up for something like $30 per hour.

Scully The Crimefighting Canine didn't catch on to this deal for a while. She kept running into my office as if to say "Dad! Dad! There's guys in the backyard! Dad! C'mon! Let's go get 'em! Emergency! Danger!" Then she took off for a minute, but came right back. "Dad! They're tearing up our shit back there! Are you just gonna sit there? C'mon! DO SOMETHING!!!" She finally calmed down and parked herself right in my office doorway, like some great protector. Yeah, right. If one of those guys so much as just walked up to the window, I'd have a lap full of shivering, shedding Golden Retriever.

Well, back to real life. There's still plenty of bad guys for me to chase. But stay tuned for more from the "Crime Dog's Margaritaville West" construction site. Should make for some interesting stories. Even if I have to make 'em up.
  |