There's No Place Like Foam
My job sucks. I hate it. I help my nephew build houses. Let me tell you about my nephew -- he sucks too. He's a little pissant who waves his new college education in front of my face like I am a starving Ethiopian and it's a twelve inch toasted meatball sub from Quiznos. The reason I work for him is that his father -- my brother -- is probably the only person who can stand me, and I drink too much at times and have lost a few jobs. I like to think that I would drink less if my brother and his son didn't suck so much.
Last fall I was one of three men who were helping Suck Junior install some cabinets in a set of townhouses. The cabinets were the inexpensive plain cabinets that you have all probably seen in government assistance apartments and maybe in military housing. They have no door handles and are stained a dark brown. Yes, you guessed it -- they suck. The one decision that Suck Junior made that did not suck was that he encouraged Suck Senior to consider using foam blocks during construction of the townhouses. He thought that the extra insulation would reduce noise problems between neighbors and make the units more energy efficient. I don't know much about the foam blocks but everyone tells me that they are great.
On the day in question Suck Senior had a large order of foam blocks delivered out back for a new set of townhouses. He decided to build another block of four at the last minute. Why one set of townhouses would be almost done and the other just starting is beyond me. Then again, my brother picked his nose and ate it alot when he was a kid. Who knows what goes on in his stupid head.
When we all broke for lunch we had to leave the property. Suck Junior's orders. I don't know; maybe he was worried we'd fuck shit up if he wasn't there to hover over us. He locked the units and we all drove our cars to wherever. I went to MacDonald's.
I don't know why I didn't crap at MacDonald's. I may have been preoccupied with thinking about how much I hate Suck Junior and his stupid rules. I didn't realize how stupid it was until I arrived back at the building site and was assaulted with the worst case of pre-shit rumbles that I'd had sober in years. There was no time to drive anywhere. No. I was going to crap my pants if I didn't find a place to squat in minutes.
Normally a building site will have porta-johns because plumbing isn't hooked up until the end of the construction. We did not have one because one of the units was up and running (for showings) and Suck Senior decided he wasn't going to pay for a toilet service when he had one in working order. If we had to crap we walked over to the first unit and crapped. The problem was that I was the first person back to the site, and the doors were all locked.
I panicked. It's not often that a grown man will panic, but the thought of putting a load in your pants and being discovered in that state by your milquetoast nephew is one of the thoughts that will do the trick. I would never live this down.
I quickly made a list of the places I could crap and realized that I had two kinds of choices: I could crap out in the open and bury it, or I could crap in the maze of foam bricks that were out back. If I crapped in the open dirt, though, I would risk being seen. Who knew when Suck Junior or my two co-workers would return? I chose the foam maze.
The blocks were stacked about eight feet high and in five or six rows. Some of the blocks were laying around, too, because the palates had been opened. I I don't know why I did it, but I removed some of the outside blocks until the bottom two were remaining. I was mincing back and forth with my legs pressed firmly together the entire time. I must have looked like an idiot. Then I squatted over one and managed to squeeze three rather solid turds into one of the hollows that is where you run the rebar through for support, just like in an ordinary cement block. I'd say that I wanted to hide the evidence, but I wouldn't be telling the entire truth. I thought it was also kind of funny.
After I finished I put the blocks back on top of the one that I crapped in and walked out front to wait for Suck Junior and his stupid keys. He arrived ten minutes later. When he unlocked the houses he gave me a funny look. Maybe I smelled. I went into the finished unit and tried to clean up my butt as best I could, and then I got back to work with the sucky cabinets.
My turds were discovered three weeks later by one of the guys working on the new units. I was immediately accused of committing the act, but of course I denied it. Suck Junior is looking for reasons to fire me, but I won't give him the satisfaction.