Image Inspired Mini Story #15

"He's sleeping with my wife, Tom, I know it."

Tom scratched his blonde hair and scrunched up his face. "Oh... I dunno, Mikey. I don't think Rick would do that to ya."

Mikey pulled on one of his galoshes. "Oh yeah? Why's that? It's not like we're best pals or something. We just work on the same slice is all. Doesn't exactly make us brothers."

Tom picked up his pickaxe and passed Mikey his pry-bar. "Sure, but that don't mean he's gettin' with your lady."

Mikey stood up. "Well, she's getting with someone. I can tell. All these errands, visits to friends I never met, more perfume than usual. It's happening. And that bastard Rick is rubbing it in my face."

"How so?"

The two men headed up to the plate, tools on their shoulders. "You've heard him, going on about his 'hammer'. How nothing can resist it. He gives me looks when he says it, does this thing with his eyebrows."

They climbed the ladder, slipped down the rim, and splashed into the juice. "He's got a power tool and we don't. He's just showing off."

"No." said Mikey, "It's more than that. I swear, one time I could smell his cologne on my pillow. Not the case, but in the pillow. And Sue had just changed the sheets the day before, but there they were, changed again. You know what that means!"

"She likes laundry?"

Mikey stopped at the rind and looked at his friend. "I don't even know why I talk to you sometimes."

Tom shrugged. Sinking his feet into the soft side of the slice he climbed up to his work station. Mikey followed, using the same hand and footholds. They got to the top and walked along the ridge. Rick was there waiting, leaning on his yellow jackhammer.

"Mornin' fellas!"

Tom smiled. "Mornin' Rick."

Mikey didn't say anything.

"You guys ready for some hot and heavy pounding today? Get ourselves a little pro-duck-tivity bonus?" Mikey grit his teeth and climbed up past him. Tom pulled on gloves, hefted his pickaxe.

"You just break it up, we'll pull em out."

"Good, good. I really need the cash. I've got something special planned. I already loosened those three so you can start there." He pointed at three of the big dark oval shapes. Mikey didn't say anything, just kept climbing toward the top one and got to work.

One good thing about the job; it was great for getting out frustrations. Mikey smashed and poked the red pulpy ground with all the anger he could manage. Over and over, he drove his long metal bar along the edge of the seed, until it was deep enough for him to pull on, leveraging it out, where it would topple down the slice to the recovery crews. It was hard work, laborers work, but there was good money in seeding.

He'd almost managed to forget about his problems by early afternoon, caught up in the task, when he heard the sound of a jackhammer almost directly below him. Peering around the smooth seed, he could see Rick, not paying attention to where he was. He should know better. Anyone beneath one of these babies when they went would be crushed instantly. He opened his mouth to call out, to warn him, and stopped.

The memory of cologne on his pillow blotted out the overwhelming watermelon stink. He knew that chances like this didn't come often.  He dug the pry-bar in, his mind made up.  He heard Tom call his name. 

Mikey ignored it and pulled hard.