Carpenter Wanted

I was sitting in Ma's eating a logger's breakfast and reading about the Canucks/Rangers game in the paper this morning. I was already on my third cup of coffee. My head was a little woozy because Sonja and I stayed up late last night drinking and fucking. My dick was still red and almost sore as my head. Anne Murray was singing on the radio. I tried not to think about Anne. No one wants a hard on when their dick is red and sore.

That's when Ma sat down next to me. She has never sat down next to me in all the years I have enjoyed her husband's cooking and the way she quietly says, "Morning Beer," when I head for my seat at the back of the restaurant. The only time I ever see Ma sit is when things are slow she does a little knitting by the entrance to the kitchen.

"You got a carpenter Beer? Someone fix your house when shit break or you want renovate?"

"I used to have a carpenter. He was great. He died a while back though and we haven't needed one to replace him. Your carpenter no good Ma?"

"I got a carpenter. Fucking Hindoo. He no good. Slow. Lazy. Go into my bathroom jerk off all the time. I want a white guy. You know one?"

"If I hear of a white carpenter looking for work I'll let you know."

"Good. Fucking Hindoo. I no like. Too fucking slow."