The Legend of Joel Riggins part 6: Gameful Employment
by Daniel Beadle - Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The sun sits high in the summer sky as the painters begin to break for lunch.A few freshly delivered and piping hot pizzas sit on the trunk of Donnie’s car. Jack grabs a slice covered in broccoli and a random assortment of meats, as he takes a stroll toward the shade. While taking his first bite, his eye is caught by the image of a teenage Asian girl peeling open a banana in the kitchen of an adjacent house. She methodically removes the banana from its skin, and inserts the entire fruit in her mouth in a single bite. Jack’s mouth gapes at the sight, and immediately drops his lunch onto the grass and runs to the nearest bathroom, his pants quickly tightening during the whole trip.
Joel emerges from the in-ground backyard pool, wearing nothing but his soaked boxer shorts. “What’s the rush, Lyons?”
Bill pulls up in his truck beside the house, tossing his cigarette butt at the ground as he stumbles out of the cab. He looks at one of his workers, who is stretched out on the front lawn, soaking up the sunshine with a look of complete tranquility on his face. Bill opens the nearby pizza box and pulls the cheese off the pizza. He tosses it directly onto the worker’s face, who wakes up screaming. The sizzle of scalded flesh hisses over the scream, as the worker takes off in the frantic search for the hose.
Bill grumbles after him, “Get your shit together, guy. No sleeping on the job.”
Bill lumbers around the house, surveying the progress. He stops at the back screen door, where the wire screen is partially covered in paint. “Riggins! Who did this?”
Joel, now fully dressed, walks up beside him. “Um… I think that was Donnie.”
Bill sighs. “I need a joint. You got one?”
On the shady side of the house, Donnie is holding his cell phone in front of a small cluster of co-workers. They all gape at the video clip of him railing the girl he met just last weekend, and who he’ll avoid for weeks to come.
“Who is that?”
“What? The girl?” Donnie asks.
“No, whose dick is that?”
“Whose do you think?” Donnie shakes his head. He holds the near empty bottle of Vodka in his opposite hand. “You,” he says, pointing to the smallest worker. “Go vertical on this.”
The worker grabs the bottle reluctantly, and then aims it at the sky as he takes a swig. He hands it back.
“You fucking pussy,” Donnie begins. “I didn’t see any air bubbles! You think you can fool me? Huh? You think you can fool someone who drinks as much as I do?”
Mrs. Mathers, a forty-year-old rich soccer mom, pulls up to her house in her Dodge Caravan. Hearing the engine, Bill hands his joint over to Joel, and hastily slaps some paint onto his hands and face. He walks to the front lawn. “Good afternoon, missus. What can I do for ya?”
“Oh, I’m just here to pick up some papers for work. How’s the job going?” She shovels through her large purse, only paying half her attention to Bill.
“Ah, it’s going great. I been here all morning keeping these clowns in line.”
Suddenly, the sound of Donnie shouting “JOHN ANTHONY!” comes from the side of the house.
“Hey Savia!” Bill shouts back. “Hammer down!”
Mrs. Mathers looks over at Donnie, who’s walking around the yard trying to steady himself. “Is he okay to work?” she asks.
“Oh yeah, guy. Everyone who works for me is certified.” Notice he didn’t specify what his workers were certified in.
“I see.” She responds cautiously. “Well, I just need to run in and grab a few things. I’ll stay out of your way.”
Bill walks off and waves at her. “Take your time.”
Mrs. Mathers is soon washing her hands in the kitchen sink, looking at the clothesline with a sense of confusion. Suddenly, Jack emerges from the bathroom with a look of complete guilt on his face. He quickly buries his head in his shoulders and exits the house.
Mrs. Mathers returns her gaze to the backyard, as Joel snatches his boxer shorts off the clothesline. Joel notices her looking at him, and then waves with a smile. “Don’t worry, they’re mine.”
In minutes, the owner is on her way, and the general ambience of the worksite is much more relaxed. Bill sits on the stoop, like a giant, shaven, summertime Santa Clause in work boots, puffing a joint, and rehashing the sexual misadventures of his previous weekend.
“Well, the rules were, we had to do it in the dark. Like pitch black. Then I just went hog wild on her.”
“So you’ve never actually seen this girl?” asks Joel.
“Nah guy, we met online. Set everything up there. And check this out: it was all anal.”
“So… how do you even know it was a girl at all? If you’re banging in the dark, and there’s no box involved…”
Bill pauses, considering the question and it’s implications. He shakes his head, “Nah, it was a girl. I’m pretty sure it was.”
Joel starts laughing at him.
“Alright, shut up Riggins. There was one point where I was givin’ her the ol’ reach around. Y’know, just to make sure.”
“And?”
“Well, she moved my hand away. But I just figure she’s crotch shy.”
“Ha! You fucked a dude!”
“I’m pretty sure it was a dame, guy. Shut your mouth.” Bill flicks the joint to the ground, and stumbles over to the paint thinner. “Yo Lyons.”“Yeah?”
“I saw your girlfriend last weekend, guy.” Bill begins washing his hands in the paint thinner. “She’s a cute little package.” He then splashes the thinner on his face and neck.
“Thanks Bill.”
Bill snatches a dirty towel and wipes the paint thinner out of his eyes. “Yeah guy. She Irish or what?”
“I dunno.”
“Must be, guy. She’s paler than you.” He tosses the towel at Lyons and walks off. “Yo! Riggins! Let’s hit the road, kid. I gotta do some estimates.” He walks up to his truck. “And maybe we’ll hit a titty bar along the way.”
NEXT: AFTERNOON WITH BILL
