but decided against it. Instead, Mollie and I enjoyed a baconnator and fries and a quiet evening of talking shit in the driveway with the neighbor and his extensive circle of ne’er-do-wells. The precocious little nitwit at Wendy’s couldn’t quite comprehend that a #4 was in fact a baconnator, and I was therefore forced to call the god of all cholesterol bombs by its full name. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure, but a baconnator is available at all your local Wendy’s fast food locations, and includes 2 slices of cheese, two 1/4 pound beef patties, and 6 strips of bacon slathered all over with mayo, and lodged between two slabs of bread that they cleverly call a bun. Just one of these monuments to dietary suicide can easily double your cholesterol count. Mine hovers in the low 4 digits so I’m not particularly worried about it, and damn was it good. I washed it down with a quart of dead animal fat, and am feeling much better now thank you.
Rebuild hell is almost over. Tomorrow we will place the molds back in the slagcaster chain. I have learned much to my chagrin that my young protege is my perfect cliche young American, meaning he borders on worthless when you ask him to do anything that involves physical labor. On the bright side, while he doesn’t get a lot done he is amusing as hell to watch, which helps speed the day along. Yesterday about 9 a.m. I explained the proper use of a hammer to him, and god bless his soul he ignored me until I gave him the class again about 2 p. m. after he was thoroughly worn out, and everyone in the shop had wandered by and asked me why exactly I hadn’t taught him not to swing a hammer like that. The beauty of our mentoring program is that no one else interferes in it, instead they go to the mentor for all things dealing with the mentee? mental? The new stupid person? yeah, that works. Because of this, rather than repeating myself or having someone interfere, I was allowed to spend roughly 5 hours watching him ignore my well intended and somewhat sage advice.
I’m not as evil as that may have sounded. I did the hard part so he wouldn’t have too, and when advice is ignored its best to just watch and see how that works out. In our case it resulted in him having the arm strength of a 5 year old girl half through the day. When I regave my “how to work a tool with no moving parts” class at 2 p.m., he was more receptive to my advice, and managed to make it until 4 pm. At that time he had achieved that near nirvana state of total worthlessness, and was allowed to leave. I did both of our jobs the last 4 hours of the day.
His father was one of the driveway reprobates this evening and I had the opportunity to ask him how the damn kid got to 20 without learning to use a hammer. His dad is a tough old bastard, and was delighted by the tale I told. His only response was if I had managed to teach him anything I was a better teacher than he. The kids alright, and I’m afraid tomorrow might kill him.
I generally don’t attend the driveway fests, but when I do go they are always informative. Tonights discussion covered everything from how big a flathead catfish has to be for you to get both your hands into its mouth (45 pounds), which pain killers are the most effective (hydrocodone was the drug of choice, with a smattering of support for oxycontin), and the best way to fool a DOT drug test(that should build your confidence as that semi goes smoking past you during tomorrows rush hour), what to do if you’re carjacked (our august panel of heathens have decided that lodging your handgun under the chin and pulling the trigger is more effective than just letting them have your car), the Harlan County war (they hail from hazzard county Kentucky), and local matters of politics that included a rope, a pickup, and a lot of beer.
The guy who advocated putting a bullet through the head of a carjacker did 6 years for doing a density test on a thugs skull with a .40 calibre, and the lady that does drug testing for the DOT was very informative. Lynching the mayor was discussed, but I think it was all hot air. We’ll see. If he gets hung I know who did it. If you ever catch a catfish big enough to stick both your hands in its mouth I recommend not eating it, and the harlan county war wasn’t much like the movie. They downplayed the hell out of the violence if the old feller I talked to is to be believed. I didn’t argue with him. He run about 6’5″ and weighed about 350. He was damn near big enough to make me lay off the Kentucky jokes for the evening, but I did tell my buddy who is going to his family reunion in Hazzard next week to try and score him a wife.
you folks have a good night.