A Two Man Job
[All comments welcome.]
Paud dragged the body by the legs through the woods. He huffed and puffed, despite all the time he’d spent on the treadmill, trying to pass the time until his release date.
Jimmy was shag-all help. “Me hiatus hernia is actin’ up again. The doc tol’ me not ta lift a bit.”
Paud fumed, but kept going until they reached the clearing. Jimmy followed, carrying the shovel. At least he was good for something.
“Don’t forget yer shovel if ya wanta go ta work,” Jimmy crooned.
Paud let go of the body and stood upright. “This is no bloody time for Christy Moore.”
Jimmy threw down the implement and sat on the ground. “I’ll keep a lookout so, while you dig.”
“Fat lot you’ll see sitting on yer arse.”
“What I won’t see I’ll hear. Have supersonic hearing, me.”
Paud cursed under his breath. He toed the earth with his shoe. The soil was soft and damp. Nice digging conditions. “Hungry work, this.”
“Tell me about it. I’d love a bowl of me Ma’s carbonara now. Penne, though. Spaghetti’s too messy.”
The muscles in Paud’s back ached. He lowered himself to the ground. “When I was inside we learned how to make carbonara proper. With the egg an’ all.”
“Egg? What’r ya talkin’ about? Sure egg’d ruin it.”
“That’s how it’s made in Italy, ya fool. An’ Italy’s the home o’ carbonara.”
Jimmy rose to his feet with surprising agility. “Who’re ya callin’ a fool?”
“Ah, ye’re nothing but a tosser. Yerself and yer hernia. Fake news is what I’d call that. Fake news.”
Jimmy picked the shovel up off the ground. “Ya sayin’ I’m a hypochondriac, are ya?”
Paud stood. “Easy, Jimmy, boyeen. Put down that shovel now, and go over to the edge of the path to keep watch.”
“I will when ya take back what ya said. About me hernia. And about a bloody egg in carbonara. An egg, me hole.”
How had he been paired up with this eejet? “I take it back. The lot of it. Come on. We’ve a job ta do.”
Jimmy stomped a few feet away and turned his back on the scene.
Paud got down to business. Got a nice rhythm going with the digging. It was therapeutic to work with the earth. They’d done some gardening on the inside. Veg and that. The carrots had been well tasty. Small and sweet.
When the hole was big enough, he hefted in the body. Poor fecker. Born to the wrong family at the wrong time. Killed over a packet of Taytos. God knows where the feud would end. Before tossing the earth on top of him he said an Our Father. It seemed like the right thing to do.
“Alright, Jimmy, boyeen. We’re home an’ dry now.”
“Jimmy, we can head now. Job done.”
Jimmy marched up to the grave. “I shouldn’t be even talking ta ya.”
“An egg in carbonara? Do ya think I was born yesterday?”
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