George was the first guy I called when my septic system backed up a few days ago. I knew when I called him that he didn't know much about septic systems--or any kind of home repair for that matter--but I like him because he's folksy and personable and reminds me a lot of myself.
George came over, looked at my septic tank for awhile, and then told me that my chicken coop was a bigger problem because the door wouldn't stay shut. He said he'd fix it in the morning if I gave him twenty bucks for the supplies he needed. I gave him the money and he hitched back onto town.
I was awakened yesterday by a huge damned crashing sound. I was sure that it was that band of Al Qaeda terrorists Our Leader is always warning us about, but it was just George. He had leveled my chicken coop.
He stopped me before I could complain and told me that the coop was a safety hazard and that he'd saved my life by destroying it. Then, he told me that if I gave him a hundred dollars he'd come back out the today to fix it.
This morning, I was again awakened by a terrible crash, only this time it was accompanied by my John Deere tractor coming right through the trailer wall. It was George again. He said that the tractor had spun out in the sewer mud from the septic tank while he was driving nails into my new chicken coop by driving the tractor over it.
I told him that I didn't think that was the proper way to construct a building, but he replied, "I've been working hard on this for three days. You can see that I've accomplished a lot. Give me another $500 dollars for supplies and I'll fix your trailer in the morning."
I gave him the money. The way I see it is that we're in this thing to deep to change course now.