Architecture 101
(A Silly Little Short Story by Mrs D.)
Joe and I
sat on the lounge wrestling with our steel-capped boots. Sensible
clothing, hard hats and we were ready for our first site inspection. “Do
you think that shoe store guys can tell if you’ve got genital herpes by
kneeling at your feet?” I asked. Joe laughed and looked at me as if I’d
gone mental.
“I
wouldn’t think so. Why?”
“Oh,… Mr
Blundstone was alright. I thought I might go in next week and buy another
colour,” I said, admiring my shoes.
“Well, a
girl can never have too many shoes, darling.” Joe stood up and stomped her
feet down into her boots.
As we
arrived on the building site I heard “Wolf. Whistle.,” spelt in full. The
mating call of the third year builder’s apprentice. All the builders were
packing up for the day, throwing shovels and tools into their truck. I
noticed that the wolf whistler stayed behind to clear things up. I also
noticed that, in the absence of his t-shirt, he had some well crafted
pectorals. Nice use of space, colour, texture,...
While I
was busy noticing these things, I was oblivious to others. “Ooooohh.” In a
nanosecond, I was airborne and heading for the dirt. “Crap” I groaned. My
right ankle had become caught between two metal rods destined to become
reinforcements inside a brick wall. “Oh. Crap.” Joe and some other
classmates came over to check on me.
“No
broken ankles!” I said, trying to sound brave. “It’s these big clunky
steel-caps. Joe, remind me not to go buying men’s shoes again.” I told
them to go on with the inspection while I sat there and mourned for my
wounded ego.
The, now
t-shirted, wolf whistler appeared before me with a plastic crate. He took
me by the arm and said “Sit here, this is the best seat on site,” as if he
was seating me on a golden throne. I thanked him for his kindness and
relaxed just a little.
“Me
name’s Mack,” said the wolf whistler. He extended his hand and in a very
businesslike manner, we had our first touch.
“Karla,”
I said. A girl should not melt during a handshake. It’s bad form. But I
guess I couldn’t be worried about form, considering I’d just fallen flat
in the dirt and put holes in a good pair of trousers. I wished I’d thought
about form when I got with Darren in the copy room at the company
Christmas party. I wished I’d given his form a thorough inspection before
taking risks on his sexual health.
Mack
disappeared for a moment, returning with a thermos and two stained enamel
cups. He knelt down at my feet, swishing, rinsing, and pouring. He
presented me with a cup of black tea.
Another
man at my feet. A builder with well crafted pectorals kneeling at my feet
giving me tea. What’s next, Prince Charming and his golden steel-caps? Yet
another man I can’t have.
Honestly,
I could go through life without any men kneeling at my feet. All I want is
a man who won’t be put off by the extra commitment and gentleness needed
to navigate the discharge and blisters.
I had an
appointment at the STD clinic today. I wore my sunglasses and acted
inconspicuous. I snuck in the door, buried my face in Tom and Nicole’s
latest adventures and waited for my name.
A nurse
called out “Mr Edward MacGuire, Please.”
Edward
MacGuire, like the TV guy. I had to look around, we could have been
in the presence of a Logie winner.
“Yes,
Ma’am”.
I turned
to face the voice. It was Mack. |
