Yardbirds

I froze as soon as I saw
the sprinkler guy's apprentice
coming down the corridor.
The grin on his face was
that of a man who knows
that he'll soon be granted the chance
to exact his revenge.
I froze as soon as I saw him
approaching me, the roll of duct tape
still in my hands. The cat was out of the bag.

"So you're the one who's been
taping our toolbox shut for the last two weeks?
We thought it was the carpenters."

I was slightly offended that they hadn't assumed
my guilt. The prank was fairly flawless, especially
when I did it before they had a chance to open
their box in the morning and would have to rely
on whatever sharp object they could muster up
to slice the tape off. If one of them had brought it up
at coffee break my face would've given me away.
Turns out I'm a terrible liar.

"We got him, Bill!"

Bill came around the corner. I could practically
hear his Western New York accent tearing into me
before he even opened his mouth.

"Oh. It's on, motherfucker."

It took all I had not to laugh in his face.
That only would've made things worse.
The sprinkler fitters are my pipe trade brothers
but that doesn't mean they won't get theirs.

"Hey, nothing permanent. And no personal vehicles,"
I said through my shit-eating.

"Just don't fall asleep in the shade anymore..."

Every time they saw me for the rest of the day they smiled.

--------------------------------------

"Well, I was busted. Caught red-handed," I told my partner.

"What do you mean?" he asked, still focused on the last beer
he had on his lunch break.

"The sprinkler guys caught me taping their box shut."

"That was you? Brilliant!"

"Yeah. I'm done. They have it out for me now."

"Bill's a good guy, and his apprentice is a pussy.
I wouldn't worry. They'll play fair, won't go overboard."

"I got too greedy. Should've waited 'til they'd left the job."

"Happens to the best of us. I wish I knew who it was
that put the picture of Obama's face under my windshield wiper."

I somehow managed to maintain my composure.
He had said he thought it was the mailman who frequents
his favorite ginmill the day before and I'd kept my mouth shut.
It was his last day on the job, though, and I'd already been
nabbed once. Might as well come clean.

"It was me. I was going to put a sign next to it
that said 'Barack is my co-pilot', but figured
my blue marker would've given me away."
Perhaps I was giving him too much credit
though he did use 'exonerated' in a sentence once.
"At least I didn't tape it over the W sticker
on the back of your van."

"That's a collector's item at this point."

"I know."

This man had told me a story about how he once
attacked an ATM machine that ate his card
with a metal garbage can and was arrested
for doing a thousand dollars in damage.
The internal camera had gotten some good shots
of him approaching with said instrument of destruction
in hand and made for some good belly laughs
down at the police station.
I'd heard other rumors about his temper
from fellow fitters, but never saw him lose his cool
during our three-week stint together.
Needless to say I was a bit apprehensive
over what this vehement Republican's response would be.

"Well it's good to see someone's still got
a sense of humor around here," he said, the red
stubble on his chin shining in the fluorescent light.

My ass unclenched itself as I exhaled.

We smirked, looked down at our dirty knees
and returned to the pipe at hand.