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painters smoke. bigger than my head.



Learning to Fall: big roller.
After we finished painting I was wore out and just layed in bed for a little bit thinking about Ms. Harriet and her naked top and that made me feel a little weird in the belly like that time I got sick on eating a whole bar of Ex-lax thinking it was some of Momma's dark chocolate stash, but the weird feeling wasn't a bad weird feeling in my stomach and what happened next I won't even tell you about 'cause I don't really understand it myself yet.

What wore me out was that when Dad and Gill came back last night with a twelve pack of beers and gave me and Terry one each even though Momma had gone nuts on us last time she smelled beer and then we worked late, late, late--past eleven. Dad didn't care much about whether or not she smelled it 'cause he was pretty sure she'd be in bed long before we ever hit the house and he said we'd ease in the way he did when Gill and him were out late some weekends.

It was gonna' be a late night he told us, then he grabbed an eighteen inch roller and bucket and started spreading paint on the walls like mad. Gill was humming and smoking his cigarettes like there was no tomorrow while he worked cutting in all the corners and doors and Terry was dabbing paint at the plaster mouldings and I was like, watching it all happen from up on my ladder with my brush and it felt good to be a guy working with his dad, his best friend, and his dad's best friend.

"An eighteen incher is a man's roller." Dad said and laughed his really deep laugh that he used mostly when he was bragging or telling a joke, taking a rest where he stood on a pile of drop cloths made from our granny's bed sheets and some gold curtains Momma once tore off the wall in a fit, screaming that she wasn't a princess, whatever that meant.

"Meester Sherman, you would have to lay yours out seecks times to have zee eighteen eenches." Gill snorted and both him and Dad howled laughter real loud and then Terry and I figured it out the exact same time that they were talking about Dad's peter and we laughed with them.








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painters smoke. bigger than my head.




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