Tell

"Mortimer? Mortimer?" Simon Hedges said. "Where are you?"

"Look up, you ninny. I'm on the roof."

"What in blazes are you doing perched up there?"

Mortimer Twill explained to Simon how his long-awaited cupola and weather vane had finally arrived. He just couldn't wait for Simon to install the gadgets, so Mortimer had decided to climb up to the roof and complete the installation himself. He was still sorting through the directions.

"Come on down before you kill yourself," Simon said. "I swear I'll put them up for you this afternoon."


Show

"Mortimer? Mortimer?" Simon Hedges said. "Where are you?"

"Look up, you ninny. I'm on the roof."

"What in blazes are you doing perched up there?"

Peering down, a wide excited grin on his face, Mortimer yelled, "My cupola and weather vane have finally arrived, look!" Mortimer whirled around and motioned to the array of parts that lay unassembled beside him on the roof. "I waited, Simon," he continued, now fidgeting with the directions, "but when you didn't show I decided to make a start."

"Come on down before you kill yourself," Simon said. "I swear I'll put them up for you this afternoon."


Tell

I'd known Uncle Zeb for years, of course, but I didn't feel like I really knew him until that first time I walked into his shop. All that time I'd thought he was just kind of handy, but looking at his tools–hundreds of them–and what they were and the way they were organised, well, I could see he was a craftsman.


Show

I always figured I knew Uncle Zeb until the first day I walked into his shop.

For a moment I just stood there by the open door and gazed, spellbound by the sheer array of tools on display, hammers, large and small, drivers, measures and many things I didn't recognise, each one organised carefully, with such attention to the detail, labeled on row after row of metal shelving.

"Oh hey, Uncle Zeb." I said, finally. "What an amazing shop."

"Why hello there, young man. Thank you" Uncle Zeb winked at me, closing the door to his shop, placing his strong arm around my shoulders, he continued, "come in, come in, you're just in time to help me with something."


We had been driving for hours, leaving Burlington at first light, travelling without stopping, I needed to pee, badly, and to eat, soon.

"Take this exit," she said, pointing at a sign just off Route 9W: Newburgh.

As we drove off the ramp, the monotony of the highway faded, quickly giving way to this other, strange world. The houses big, each one different, set in a large garden, with drive ways and trees and lawns.

"Your folks live here?"

"Foster carers, yeah."

"Boy. They must have money."

"I suppose."

We drove for another half-hour, my full bladder and empty stomach returning to the front of my mind as my eyes adjusted to the sights of the neighbourhood.

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