The Skeleton & The Carpenter

The 25th Annual Tri-County Wood Wizards Contest

         Five hours and three-hundred-thirty-two miles later, a bleary-eyed Roger was ecstatic to see a sign welcoming him to Hamsford, "The Town That Never Sleeps!"

Very funny, he thought, reading the sign, more tired than he had ever been in his life.

Just as he had hoped, the next sign he saw was a banner for the Wood Wizards Contest, which stated that it was taking place in the convention center, which he could get to by taking the next right turn. Confident that he now knew exactly where he was going, Roger was free to let his mind wander. Reflecting on their afternoon spent helping Joe with his construction, he had a minor epiphany.

"You know what I just realized?" Roger whispered to his passenger, fully aware that he was asleep and unable to hear him. "You managed to put together that whole frame yesterday without cutting off any of your mustache!"

It was true: the mustache was longer and more glorious than ever. In fact, it's left curl extended so far beyond its owners upper lip that it was almost touching Roger as he drove, it's right curl pressed against the passenger side window.

Hardware Guy, meanwhile, continued his noiseless slumber.

****

"Whaaaat?" Hardware Guy groggily protested, his eyes still closed, as Roger nudged him on the shoulder.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" This time he laughed out loud at his own joke. "Morning glory and hallelujah! We're here!"

With great effort, Hardware Guy opened his eyes and looked around, to see that the sun was rising over the Hamsford convention center, in front of which they, as well as about a hundred other carpenter's trucks, were parked.

"Hot dog, Rog, you did it! You got us here alive!" Hardware Guy was overjoyed and thoroughly well-rested.

They sprang from the truck and hurried into the convention center. The sight inside was like nothing Roger had ever seen: they were swimming in a sea of flannel, with tool belts jangling loudly, and – the centerpiece – a stage upon which sat what were essentially two fully-equipped woodshops. A tear of joy ran down Hardware Guy's cheek.

"Excuse me gentlemen, are you here to register for the competition?" asked a monotone official, perched behind the registration table to Hardware Guy and Roger's left.

"I am!" Hardware Guy sang.

"I'm not, it's just him." Roger said, as the bored registrar turned his questioning gaze to him.

"Okay, sir, if you'll just fill this out." the official handed Hardware Guy a clipboard, with a healthy stack of paper on it, and a pen.

With the paperwork filled out and a bright yellow sticker declaring him "#67" on his chest, Hardware Guy said his goodbyes to Roger and took his place backstage, as instructed by the apathetic registrar. Roger, having wished his friend good luck, took a seat in the audience, with butterflies taking their seats inside of his stomach.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" a loud and rather obnoxious voice came booming from the overly-large speakers stationed at both corners of the stage twenty minutes after Roger sat down. "WELCOME TO THE TWENTY-FIFTH ANNUAL TRI-COUNTY WOOD WIZARDS CONTEST! WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"

With that, the tournament bracket descended from the ceiling onto the stage. It had thirty-two competitors matched up for the first of their five one-on-one rounds of competition. Roger was stumped by this; he was sure that there were many more than thirty-two people who had entered the contest. Hardware Guy's badge said he was the sixty-seventh, had it not?