Love Songs: The Wrong Note - A Collection of Short Stories

5

Everybody in town accepted the fact that the lightbulb in Willoughby Little's head was dimmer than dim. This is why he was known simply as Big Little.

The number of letters in his first name alone was enough to send him into a tizzy. Big was a nice three-letter word that was small. And Willoughby could spell it – could write it, even.

Big Little was the resident handy man for the folks in the small community of Undentwear. It was how he paid his bills, bought his food, and saved for rainy days.

The town's name was an utter joke. Underwear - Undentwear. But Bartholomew Undentwear had set about to make a name for himself and leave a legacy that told the world he'd walked the earth.

He did, too.

Undentwear was still a community, if not a thriving one. The fact that old Bart had sired twenty-seven sons by eight wives hadn't hurt its chances of survival either.

And Big loved Undentwear.

It was where the house his father built lived. Where his mother had grown up. Where he had spent everyday of his whole entire life, and where people, for the most part, were nice to him.

If not nice, well, they didn't ridicule him too much and generally left him alone.

***

Big Little was good with his hands. What Big lacked in formal education, he more than made up for in brute strength and an aptitude for all the things needed in a good handyman.

He was reliable, a hard worker, and he seemed to be honest enough. And Big kept to himself. He didn't bother anyone and wouldn't hurt a flea.

He had a few odd mannerisms. But then, who doesn't.

Besides, most folks appreciated that Big, though a man of few words, charged the cheapest prices around. Good work done cheap – that would have been Big's motto if he'd had the inclination to give it any thought.