The Old Man at Lowes

The Old Man at Lowes. Sunday, early. A good time to go, even without the drizzle and cold. A lesser crowd. Most cross the adjoining parking lot for Home Depot, anyway. The draw of orange.

The Old Man came to consider chicken-wire to cover openings in his garage, places where the wood siding has rotted away, allowing access to birds and squirels to build nests and tear up the fiberglass insulation. "Hello, Clarice," The Old Man greeted the squaking starling that has been hanging around, staking its territory, cawing dibs on this particular rotted opening to any other interested parties -- Move on! Move on! "There will be no nesting here this season, I'm afraid."

The Old Man has nothing against birds or squirrels in general, nor starlings in particular. In fact, he likes having them around, but he can't have them taking up residence in his garage. It's a rule. Everyone knows, even though no one knows why.

The chicken-wire is painful to work with, tore up his hands last year when The Old Man covered the gable vents against sparrows. So, he's considering nylon mesh, like what you use for window screens. But he ends up consider the selection of rope on the other side of the aisle. Who knew there were so many different options? Colors even? They all appear to be nylon. He prefers natural rope. Something to do with cowboys, perhaps.

Something to do with hangman's nooses and gallows, a hard man's eyes squinting into the hot sun and blowing dust. Like in his persistent dreams, which he'd expected to stop upon quitting his soul-sucking job, working fourteen-pluse hours a day, seven days a week, sometimes. And they had. For a time. Until they didn't.

It ended with a dream. That didn't seem nor particularly feel like a dream. Definitely not a nightmare. In fact, it was the utter banality of it that unsettled him so deeply. Shuffling to the kitchen to make the coffee. Carefully descending the basement stairs, into the dark. There, hanging from the rafters, rope. A noose. Still. A gaping hallow eye-socket. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

The Old Man settles on the cheapest role of nylon mesh. He's on a budget after all, and we're talking about vermin here. Borrows a staple gun from his brother with the tools. Both sit in the kitchen, waiting to be taken to task.

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