Time To Dig

It was my turn to dig again. The snow buried us in two feet of the damn stuff and we had all we could do to shovel our car out of the street. We took turns because we only had one shovel, and while one was outside digging, the other got to warm up in the car. The gas gauge was not looking promising but we didn’t care. We blasted the heater knowing if we didn’t, we’d surely freeze to death.

We had to get away from this place before anyone saw us. The neighbors were on vacation, he said and I hoped he was right.  I was inside the car trying to shake the bone chilling cold out of my body and wondering where we would go next. Who would know us? I had to think fast, fast enough for both of us, because he has only his temper to think for him and we know how far that got us. Lucky for me my brain’s not affected by the cold, but for him out there? Heck, he’s probably the only fella I know that already thinks a brain needs to stay cold or it doesn’t work at all. Well, that’s his excuse anyway and it seems to have served him okay all these 30-odd years. Now all he needs to learn is to stop looking at people the wrong way. He stares them down like he’s ready for a dual when he doesn’t even know them. I felt bad for that poor old man who offered to help us dig out earlier. He was so spooked by my friend it took him all of five seconds to turn right around and leave. If the snow wasn't so deep, I'm sure he would have run. The sun is going down fast now which means the temperature dropping too.

Poor Bud. Just look at him. He’s a work horse all right, just like his old man. That old bastard worked right up to the day he died at the ripe old age of 81. He was even scarier than his son, if that's even possible. But that's a story for another day and one I'd rather not even tell. Just makes the point that the good do die young. If that's true then that old bat should've been dead years ago. Damn shame too. His son would've been better off. Well, forget about his old man for now. I'm just glad to know Bud and that's all there is to it. He may not be the smartest guy I know, but right now he's the only friend I have. I guess he's really the only one who cares.

Shit. I need to stop all this damn thinking.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe we should unload the weight in the trunk. These old Buicks have trunks the size of a small basement. Except most people don’t put in their basement what we tossed in our trunk. I’m not too keen in opening the damn thing, much less emptying it.

Well, I’d better let him take over the thinking part now. It’s my turn to dig again.