Brethren?

I worked with this Winner on the last job
who introduced himself
with his first name, followed by "the Plumber"
and I instantly knew.
I just fuckin' knew.

Premature salt-and-pepper hair, crooked teeth.
He had a nervous twitch
and looked like the long-lost
Stallone brother, retard strength
and diminutive size included.

I'd be smoking a cigarette in the parking lot
before walking into the building in the morning
and the inside of his car would light up
with the flick of his Bic.
He didn't smoke cigarettes.
That explained the stupid smile glued to his face
and that annoying beady-eyed giggle in the morning.

His workmanship and attitude were equally
appalling, but the worst part
was that the guy didn't stop talking
for the eight hours straight
that I saw him each day.
And he was a broken record.
He liked the sound of his own voice, too.
At least I don't repeat myself.
Or do I...

One time he told me that plumbing
wasn't about pipes, it was about bullshit.
Suddenly it all made sense.
He was trying to be the best plumber ever
by spewing the most bullshit.
Brilliant.

But the real bomb was dropped
when one of my buddies
who lived in the same town
revealed that the guy had married
his own stepsister.
I imagined that it must be confusing
to fill out Christmas cards
when the family tree is shaped like a ladder.
From then on I just tried not to laugh too hard
especially since he used to brag about
what a freak his old lady was in bed.
The detailed account of the two hundred dollars
he'd recently spent on sex toys, and how
she didn't like the nipple clamps
only made matters worse.
At least the gene pool wouldn't be tainted.

He told me once that he'd done some plumbing
at one of the local prisons
and that the guards there
gave tours of the place and its inmates
like it was a museum.
He said he'd seen Son of Sam
that he was a tiny guy, Danny DeVito in stature
and that he wasn't impressed.
For some reason that statement stuck with me
more than the other three million
maybe because somehow it made sense.
I hear the dog talking too
from time to time
but I choose to ignore it.

When the job ended
and the axe fell on all of our necks
I was secretly relieved.
I wouldn't have to see him again
at least for awhile
until the hall decided
to punish me.

And so now, sir
I say with a clear conscience
that I too
was quite unimpressed

though if at the end
of my lifetime
I don't have enough filler
for my memoirs
I'll venture to write yours
instead.