Hick has not completely finished his Little Barbershop of Horrors. I know that comes as a shock to you, but around here it is the norm. The standard of construction. Par for the course. The status quo. Hick never finishes one building before he starts another.
The latest project is a combined effort between Hick and The Pony. That means Hick is doing the building, but the building is for The Pony. Hick thought it up all by himself, because he was running out of things to build. He still has an old schoolhouse in mind for down by the creek. But that would be down by the creek. Which means he would not be out front getting attention from anybody with a four-wheeler who drives by.
The new building is what The Pony and I call The Sword Shack. It will be a place for The Pony to keep his swords and knives and daggers and knights and Roman and Greek memorabilia. So sayeth Hick, because he does not like The Pony's room to be cluttered with so many collectibles. Nobody out-collects Hick.
Here is the beginning of The Sword Shack:
That's just the floor. The base for the floor. It rests in a place of honor next to the Little Barbershop of Horrors, just this side of the small sinkhole. Notice that turkey on the left? That's not a statue. Not some plastic target for a bow-hunter. That's Hick's turkey. Not the original Tom, the one he was caught lifting up and chanting,
"Who's a big fat turkey? Huh? Who's a big fat turkey? HIM'S a big fat turkey!" Not Tom II, the one that "loved" a pretty white paramour to death within 10 minutes of Hick leaving them alone together. No, this is the current turkey, simply called Turkey, the one The Pony and I wattle-blocked one day when we came up the driveway a half-hour earlier, scaring a gray wild hen back into the woods. Much to the dismay of the fanned-out, strutting Turkey. This is the one that follows Hick around like a dog, and talks back to him when he makes turkey noises.
The Sword Shack currently looks like this:
It has two walls so far, and a bunch of boards to be used later, and a frame for the door. The Pony is outside as I type, knocking more boards loose from skids Hick brought home from work at some point. You know, those heavy-duty pallets that forklifts stick their forks under and haul around the plant. I'm not sure how old they are, but Hick's workplace used to let guys bid on scrap lumber. Nothing goes to waste when Hick is around. Except maybe the runny part of the soup.
I think The Pony may be able to pick up some spending money for college if he offers tours of his fine facility to patrons of my proposed handbasket factory.
All I know for sure is that this little project has been keeping Hick out of my poorly-coiffed, chemically-treated hair this summer. And it gets The Pony off the couch.
That's a good thing.
I am inclined to poke fun at you backwoods living unsophisticated country folk, but then we'uns up in the Garden State enjoy our dirty water cocktails, so...
ReplyDeleteLet's not forget your great love of sitting on your glasses, driving without them, and impersonating Bono. And...I have heard it from a jerky source...the women of your great state cannot write legibly enough to make a simple grocery list!
DeleteDon't you want them to build you a den? A place all your own, a place where you can lock everybody else out?
ReplyDeleteDEN? Did I fall into the 1950s? Or do I look like I have a layer of adipose tissue suitable for sustaining me through a six-month hibernation?
DeleteI have asked for a writing studio, as you might recall if you were not time-traveling back to have coffee with June Cleaver. And the answer was that I should look over those outbuildings at Lowe's.
Why aren't you benefiting from all this construction? When is the groundbreaking for your hand basket factory?
ReplyDeleteI suppose Hick wants to have all of his buildings ready for the Apopadopalyspe before he helps me with my handbasket factory that will essentially benefit others instead of himself.
DeleteBe careful be very careful if he offers you first dibs on the school house down by the creek. :Poorly coiffed, chemically-treated hair" ha-ha-ha-ha.
ReplyDeleteOh, I'm wary of any offers from Hick. My momma didn't raise no poorly-coiffed, chemically-treated-hair fool! I would definitely check the high water mark first, and then observe the location of the schoolhouse.
DeleteWell it looks like he's got it squared up anyway. That Hick never ceases to amaze me.
ReplyDeleteI looked at it this afternoon, and the walls are halfway up. Hick is handy with tools. That's a fact, Jack! He's going to rival that Winchester widow and her house with all of its additions and doors to nowhere before he's done building things around here.
DeleteI love the fact that he is using scrap wood and pallets! I keep trying to encourage He Who to add some old pallets to his collection of "stuff" so I can dismantle them to build a proper tool shed (for me, of course).
ReplyDeleteMost of our outbuildings (and two outhouses) were made from discarded lumber. The only parts he buys are the long boards for the frame, and some plywood.
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