Already been to Lowe’s, got all the pressure treated wood I’m going to need; exactly enough and no more. I hate waste. Besides, I like the self imposed pressure of being exactly perfect in all my measurements.
Top’s down on Big Red and the old war pony runs, wide open through the back country roads, two-by-twelve’s hanging over the tail gate, skill saw, saw horses, compressor, nail gun, tap-cons, a roll of stainless nails, tool belt, speed square, level, and impact drill all stuffed around the wood, as Big Red’s tires hum over the road, all the way to old man Willard’s farm.
I finally reach the farm and drive over the yard and park Big Red close to the back porch. “Whoa there war pony!” I say, slowing to a stop. I wonder if my Suzie Q’s here. I hope so, ‘cause I’m feeling great!
I unload everything, set up the saw horses, plug in the air compressor, listening to it pressurize, load the roll of nails into the nail gun, pull back the bumper and squeeze off a few rounds into the barren corn field, pop, pop, pop. Cool! I’m Stallone in “First Blood”, pop, pop, pop…
Feeling good today! Beautiful day! Working outside for the first time this year! I plug up my DeWalt construction radio and crank out the tunes. Oh yeah, a little “Stone Temple Pilots”, way cool.
I look at my reflection in the window glass, looking good! I see Suzie’s silhouette in old man Willard’s living room. I sing, “Oh Suzie Q, I love you, my Suzie Q.” A little CCR. Yeah! She’s a babe too! Tall, blond, built like the proverbial brick sh*t house… Had to move back home, couldn’t sell any houses with the real estate market drying up. Total bummer! I’m going to give her a thrill. I pull off my shirt, put my cap on, backwards, slip on my safety glasses, pump my pecs, flex my guns, showing off my tats… I know she’s sneaking peaks through the window. “Tell me Suzie, and be honest, do I make you ho-ney? Randy? Yeah baby!” Man, a perfect specimen of an all American stud machine! American heavy studliness! What a perfect day!
Okay, I stride back to my Jeep and strap on my tool belt, a gun slinger strapping on his iron. My twenty-four ounce Stanley holstered hammer, resting heavily against my thigh, feeling perfect, feeling deadly, ready to rock. “Oh Suzie Q, Oh Suzie Q, Oh Suzie Q, Suzie Q, I love you…”
I grab my pry bar, stride back to the steps and begin ripping them down. I jam the pry bar between each end of the steps and the riser, quick draw my iron and pound apart the wood, casually tossing each aside. Cool! Then I bend all the nails over and toss each step into the back of my Jeep.
Now the risers… I grab my impact driver, slip in a nut runner and take out the tap-cons, letting each riser fall to the ground. Am I sweating yet? Oh yeah… and Suzie’s peeking…
Then I see a gopher! Most excellent! Old man Willard’s going to pay me five bucks for each gopher I kill. They destroy his yard and eat his corn, pesky varmints, hairy heathens. I grab the nail gun, pop, pop, pop… Dang-it! Missed! Shsss, you must be vewy, vewy quiet when hunting wabbits….
I lay a two-by-twelve on the saw horses and trace out one of the risers with my oval shaped carpenter’s pencil. Why do they make these pencils in such an odd shape anyway? There must be some logical reason for it. But I can’t figure it out. Oh well…
I plug up my skill saw and cut one riser. Then I do it again for the second riser. I’m going to reuse the tap-con holes so I locate the holes on the risers and carry both risers over to the concrete landing, one under each arm. You seeing this Suzie?
Wait, there it is again, stupid gopher… I grab the nail gun, pop, pop, pop… I see the dirt kick-up around the pesky critter’s hole. But, the little bugger’s too quick… Dang-it!
I walk back to the landing, admiring my reflection in the mirror, seeing Suzie’s tall, sexy silhouette behind. Check this out baby, as I flex my guns… my tats popping….
I pick up the first riser, lay it against the landing, slip a stainless steel washer around a tap-con, push it into the wood, grab my impact driver and drive it in. I watch as the tap-con grabs hold, pulling the washer into the wood, squeezing out a little moisture, a tight, snug fit…. Feeling good! I finish this riser and do the same with the other. Then I make sure the risers are equal distance apart.
Okay, time to cut the steps. Old man Willard doesn’t want any kick plates but he does want a one inch lip…. Not a problem… I make my measurements and rip the first step. Then I use that step as a template for laying out three more. After I’m done, I’m covered with green saw dust. I turn toward that window and slowly wipe the dust off my sweaty body… You catching this Suzie? I know you are….
Hey, there’s that gopher again… I’m going to see if I can sneak up on it… I grab the nail gun and nonchalantly saunter towards the little fury heathen. I get to within ten feet. The little varmint’s looking right at me, beady black eyes, you must be vewy, vewy quiet when hunting wabbits…. Pop, pop, pop… Dang-it! I’ll get you, as God is my witness, your mine! I hope Suzie didn’t see this….
Okay, back to the steps, I cut the second, taking the line, making sure it’s exactly the same length as the first. I cut the third, again taking the line…. Think I’ll show off for Suzie a bit. So, I grab the first three steps and carry them over to the risers. I lay them out, beginning with the bottom step, to square the risers, make sure it’s centered and pop, pop, pop, nail it down. I do the same for the other two steps…. I straighten up, feeling sweaty, hoping Suzie’s stealing a quick glimpse or two of pure American beef! I know she is…
Dang-it, there he is again. Pop, pop, pop… Crap! He’s one quick little heathen… I’m going to get him. So I walk over to his hole and sit five feet away. I raise my nail gun and take aim. Okay Charlie, pop the head up… waiting, waiting…. Charlie don’t surf! ... waiting, waiting… Man, my arms are tired… Shoot. I’ll get you yet!
Three more steps to go. I cut the fourth and layout the fifth. Wait, there he is! He’s in the open! I grab my nail gun and spring towards him, inadvertently bumping the step I’m using as a template. I run towards the little fuc*er… I drop down into a prone position and with both hands, take slow steady aim…. I breathe deep and hold, I learned this from a sniper movie, and slowly squeeze the trigger, pop, pop, pop…. Dang-it! How’d I miss?
Total bummer! I walk back to my saw horses, pick up my skill saw and cut the fifth and sixth steps. I carry them over to the riser and lay them out… What the…. One’s not fitting correctly! I take it back and take a little off. I carry it back and it’s still not fitting. Crap, I take off a little more…
I can’t figure it out! How’d I make a bad cut? Now, I’m going to have to go all the way back to Lowe’s and get another stick of pressurized…. Plus, I’m out of nails! Fudge!
Then I look up and see that dang gopher… He’s smiling as he sits on his haunches. I swear he’s laughing at me as I think to myself, I cut that piece three times and it’s still too short! Dang-it! I’ve been humbled by a flea-bitten, hairy varmint! And, looking up I see Suzie, laughing at me! What a terrible day!
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