TROUBLE IN PARADISE

The church roof is almost done. By the end of the day the copper flashing will be complete and the ladders taken down. This is only the third roof in 140 years on this church. Keep a roof on this building and it will last another 140 years...easy. It's been 12 years since i bought this place, so there's a tremendous sense of relief in having this job over. Of course there's much to be done but now it's dry and protected. LGM bless Al Blanchard.

Now to the bad news. My neck and shoulder and left arm are killing me, no small part due to a karate chop recieved to my throat on Sunday. Let me backtrack a bit.

After walking out of Walmart in new "Gobbler" boots Art insisted on getting more beer and charcoal to smoke the five trout he had caught earlier in the day. I drove to the Trading Post and told Art to behave. "This my town, Art." I scolded. Art nodded and followed me into the store. I lost him in 10 seconds, did my shopping and went back to the car. No Art. I waited. And waited. And....Finally I went back in the store. Still no Art. Only one place he could be- Dutch's bar. The bartender greeted me like I was Jesus Christ and Santa Claus rolled into one. "Thank God! I thought you had left him." I had hid my pills but Art had his own. After two beers and a game of pool I distracted him enough to usher him back to the car.
On the way home Art ticked off possible places to hunt the next day. We would be trespassing in all of them. "I'm sorry Artie." I told him "My tresspassing days are over. I want to be calm and relaxed. Calm is my new thing." Art scowled. "Mikey...you're not turning gay on me are you?"
"Yes Art. I am. I'm gay as shit these days."
"You ever had a man ram his tongue down your throat? I ever tell you how when i was a kid my cousin raped me......?"
"TMI ART!" I cut him off from his confession. "I'm off the clock."
"Cmon Revernd..." he whined. Then things got bad.

Back at the picnic table Art alternated between singing Gloria Gaynor tunes, listing his orders of protection from the wife and babbling incoherently. Then without warning or provocation he chopped me in the throat. That's right, my neck went into spasms. If I had been packing I'd be cutting up more than a turkey today. I saw red. Standing up I found myself scolding a cowering, drunk, clueless old man. "ART I DON'T CARE WHAT DEMONS YOU CARRY AROUND. IF YOU EVER.....I MEAN EVER..... LAY A HAND ON ME AGAIN I'LL......." Artie apologized, not even realizing what he had done. Then he went in my guest room and passed out. When he woke up all he remembered was me yelling at him "...for something."

My horoscope said that just when you think you have your ducks in a row....be careful. Like Art's brother Gary admonished me. "Mike, in the Spring you HAVE TO lock your back door. You should know better." When you're right, you're right. The door is locked now.