Raising the Roof

Lately, Cap's home has been abustle with activity. Besides the trap factory in the workshop and sprawling into his driveway, they have had a local roofing crew replacing the asphault shingles on his house. As you can imagine, this has stirred up the entire household. The cat and dog are all worked up, having to bear nailguns pounding their roof all day. Mrs. Cap is equally as upset with her flower gardens being trampled and peppered with asphault shards. In my opinion, it's nice to have fellow hard workers keeping us company and maintaining our drive. They do good work and they're some of the friendliest fellahs I ever did meet. And they keep things interesting.

Cap is friends with the head roofer and the crew stops by to visit with us frequently, their round, mahogany beer bellies dripping with sweat from the sudden heat wave. I was a bit surprised by their display of skin initially, but now I don't mind at all. With so many half-naked men around I sometimes feel overdressed in a tank top and shorts!

The roofing crew certainly is rich in character. Confession #52: Just a few weeks ago I entertained the wild idea of getting a tattoo for my 25th birthday this fall. I came up with a design of a ginko leaf to ink on my back. To my mother's relief, this far-fetched fantasy was easily cured when I spotted a rather conspicuous tat on one of the roofers. I haven't even been able to look long enough to distinguish what it is a tattoo of out of embarrassment (and it takes a lot to embarrass me). You see, this fellah has a tat right on his ass crack, part of his anatomy that is often visible, unfortunately. I've been considering an alternative plan to celebrate a quarter century of life ever since.

One of the vehicles that fills up Cap's driveway these days has a bumper sticker that I haven't seen before. It's unique alright. It reads: "My other toy has tits." I certainly hope that his wife is flattered by her husband's statement, but somehow I don't think I would be. I haven't met her yet to ask her, but I'll know who she is when I see a sports car bumper reading "My other toy has balls!"

Tomorrow morning the work will resume, pounding on roof and trap alike at the noisiest house in the neighborhood. I swear the neighbors must have had it with us by now. At least we play some good radio tunes for them!