A Modern Tall Tale

Hard Work Always Pays Off... if you're lucky

A Modern Tall Tale

            Another Wednesday morning; not that the fact that it’s Wednesday makes a difference, but it’s nice to imagine that because the calendar has progressed yet another square I’m one step closer to a promotion… or at least a new job.  Tuesday’s night shift has left out frozen donuts to thaw.  I figure I’ll begin by frosting the decadent array of homemade pastries the owner advertises so shamelessly.  I make little smiley faces on some, mix the vanilla and chocolate on others, and write out the name “Joe” on two very special donuts.  When that’s finished I make our premium coffees.  Essentially we’ve narrowed down what we sell to two quality choices:  “Yes” and “No.”  Last order of business is the breakfast sandwiches.  They are proudly displayed in a plastic case to which a customer can point out what treasure of taste they wish to experience today.  Forty-five seconds in the microwave is all it takes to, apparently, make the planets orbit contently.  Once this is done I turn on all the bug zappers:  Miller Lite, Marlboro, Mobil Oil, and the grandiose open sign.  Feeling assured that my minimum wage job will one day pay off the loans I have amassed to gain an education worthy of the most respectable of employers, I return to my counter, grab the local paper, and begin my exhilarating day.

            The door rings.  He is wearing the jacket he’s owned for at least twenty years.  The holes were not from moths, but from good old fashioned wear and tear.  I highly doubt the thing is as warm as it used to be, but Joe refuses to get a new one.  The guy has nothing left aside from that coat.  Twenty years ago he lost his wife and two kids.  I guess it’d be more accurate to say his wife decided he wasn’t good enough for her and left him.  She took the kids with her and Joe did everything he could to support them financially.  More often than not he was living with a friend or coworker.  Every single dime that wasn’t spent on food went to his children and the woman who decided she wanted a man who could get her everything she thought she deserved.

            Joe reaches into the case of donuts and finds the two with his name.  He smiles.  Sad thing is I know that the handle on the donut case is cool, that the donuts themselves are soft and slightly flaky, and that the napkin he uses to hold his donuts is dry, rough, and thin.  Why is this sad?  Joe can’t feel a damn thing with his hands:

            Well now, as it were a new factory was going up not far beyond the town.  The locals were in quite a pickle concerning the resources available to build such a needed source of jobs in such a limited amount of time.  During the town meeting it seemed not much would be accomplished aside from hollerin’ and boo hooin’.  Just as this swirlin’ tornado was about to maximize its F-ness in comes Joe Tumer.  Now all them folks had heard about Joe Tumer coming to town, but thems things was usually nothing more than rumors.  Though none of them saw Joe before, they knew him instantly by his legendary stature and prowess.  A burly man indeed, standing no less than ten foot and no more than the sky’s foot, whatever distance that may be.  Well Joe got to work right away and within no time at all the factory had been completed.  There was one problem though, the factory had no way of getting any power.  Well Joe knew what needed to be done and got himself a big long line of copper.  He tied one end up to that there factory, and the other to some there utility pole.  Once the two were connected there was such a spark let off that poor ol’ Joe burnt his hands to the highest degree of degrees.  The townsfolk were eternally grateful, but poor Joe Tumer never could feel anything else with those working man’s hands.

            With his donut in hand, Joe hobbled over to the counter with the “Yes” and “No” coffee.  I couldn’t help but stare as one foot took each step with ease and the other slammed down flat quickly after.  It was like watching Rome fall; nothing is too big to fall.  The thud of that false leg stamping the ground was always followed by the pronouncing pang of a cane used with trepidation as it was entrusted to hold the entirety of Joe’s weight:

            Well now the townsfolk had good ol’ Joe Tumer around, and they didn’t want this to go to waste.  As bad as they felt for Joe’s predicament, they still needed some things done around that there town, and one person had suggested to build a gym, which was an idea liked by many.  So Joe, being the hardworkin’ man he was, was more than happy to help.  Everything was going quite according to plan, but things got a little tricky when it came to the duct work.  Joe was pretty talented at doing what needed to be done when it came to such doin’s so everything was going at a pretty healthy pace.  Joe Tumer’s height was just right for working on the ceilin’ as others worked below.  Well Joe went to pick up another square of sheet metal and, due to his unfeelin’ in his hands, dropped it.  As that razor sharp square made its troubling descent down to a man working below, Joe thought to stick out his leg and stop the tumbling blade of death from killin’ that poor man.  Good news is the man below Joe survived, but the bad news for Joe was that that-there sheet metal sliced his leg clean off.

            Joe lifts the extremely hot “Yes” coffee to his mouth as he balances uncertainly against the counter.  A little worm of a tongue pokes out of his mouth and dips into the coffee.  The tongue quickly draws back as it notes the coffee is too hot for consumption.  That was expected by Joe.  The need to check had become so routine that no amount of steam would deter him from this needless experiment.  “Yes” coffee, Joe wasn’t one for saying no, and it left him a shell of his former self:

            Well now Joe, with his new tree of a leg, started to fancy that it was just about time for him to be hitting that old dusty trail when another member of the town approached him.  The man implored Joe to stay and build a church worthy of the Lord Christ Himself.  Well Joe wasn’t one for saying no, especially when it came to the Lord, so he agreed to make such a house for God that God would be jealous that He actually didn’t live there.  Now Joe wasn’t his usual limber self with his new timber leg and his inability to feel things as he used to, but he put his heart and soul into that building.  To make Joe Tumer’s life easier, the townsfolk constructed a nail gun fitted to a man of Joe’s size.  Well Joe had gotten himself in the most uncomfortable of situations.  As he stood tall on the ladder he found himself having to bend backwards as he nailed straight up with that there gun, and just as he put in the last nail he thought he heard the gun double tap.  It looked as though only one nail was fired, but when he went to tell the townsfolk that the church was finished he was unable to speak.  Turns out Joe had shot two nails up his bottom jaw and into the sides of his tongue.  When all was said and done, the townsfolk felt blessed to have their new church, but poor ol’ Joe Tumer was left with only the center of his tongue and could no longer taste as he once could.

            Joe carries his coffee and donuts over to me.  His burning coffee simmers in one hand, his donuts are held gingerly in the other, he had mastered the art of preventing the unwitting smashing of them, his walk was one of a child’s failing top, and inside his mouth was a tongue that felt only hot and cold while tasting nothing sweet nor sour.  It was easier now to look into his good eye as he approached.  It’s not that the glass eye he used to wear was too realistic, but rather that the eye that Joe had left looks rather crudely fashioned.  Even when I knew which eye was real, I often found myself second guessing.  The eye patch is preferable as far as I’m concerned:

            Well now the place was booming.  All them folk were quite thankful for the doin’s of Joe Tumer and not one had any complaints about his handy work.  Joe had planned on leavin’ several times throughout his stay, but every time he was ripe to go, someone else requested his help.  Joe still had one last project in him, and it would be one worth rememberin’ that much was for sure.  See the cityfolk now wanted Joe to build the largest skyscraper this city had ever seen.  Joe readily engrossed himself in this task and found himself buildin’ the tallest buildin’ in the world.  Well he was pretty high up scrapin’ the sky and it was tough to find balance with a leg as such.  As Joe Tumer was doin’ some rivetin’ up top, the cityfolk decided to lend a hand by setting up rebar.  Late into the job Joe wasn’t even close to finished as his abilities had been marred a considerable-some amount.  Well Joe slipped and fell quite some distance.  His head found a piece of freestandin’ rebar which pierced Joe’s eye, smashed through the roof of his mouth, and come out just below his ear.  No one ‘round could finish that there tower so they tore it down.  Joe Tumer was no more and his legacy was soon to be all but legend… all but some fancy tall tales.

            I ring up Joe’s coffee and donuts.  He already has the exact amount laid out on the counter for me.  Any other day Joe would be on his way out by now, but today was Wednesday.  Joe reaches into his worn dirty pockets and pulls out a carefully folded piece of paper.  The paper shimmers as Joe places it under the glaring spotlight hovering over the counter and below the cigarettes.  How such a thing could emerge from that pocket untainted is well beyond me.  With one somewhat functional eye, Joe looks over to the left at the numbers dauntingly displayed for last night’s lottery.  He reads the numbers and looks at his ticket.  He reads the numbers again, and again looks at his ticket,  “I… I won?  I won.  I won!  Hehe, finally.  Finally!” Joe manages to dance around his cane with a hobblely jig.  Amidst his excitement, he stumbles into the counter and, with great effort, pulls himself upright.  As he bobs up and down, he starts tapping a broken rhythm on the counter.  “After all these years, I knew it.  I just knew it,” Joe smirkingly sticks out his worm tongue, “I knew that one day all that hard work would finally pay off!”

            Later that day I dropped out of college and quit my job.

Author's Note

Go Nuts :)

Reviews

[A.R. Elvira]

This is great - I love dark humor. In the beginning I was a little worried by the all too common beginning about someone starting their day at work, but I was pleasantly surprised by your original tale. The style of your writing suits the story, I particularly like the 'yes ' and 'no' coffee. The slang used in the paragraphs about Joe is not too rich, it enhances the dark humor. You have a knack for creating likable, relatable characters even if they are nothing particularly special which is an extremely important skill when writing creatively. You have you get readers to like your characters. My only suggestion would perhaps be to drag out that last paragraph a bit more and give a touch more detail as it feels a little too unsatisfying short for the story that precedes it. Well done!

[kylejacobson]

Thanks :) Your feedback is much appreciated. I can see what you mean with the last paragraph. I could spend some time reiterating Joe's position to make the story come full circle. In fact, I probably will when I have the time as I would like to see what happens.

Thanks again, much appreciated

[Marie]

This is a great tale. Kind of like Pecos Bill, but sadder. You're a pretty good writer.