Monday, October 19, 2015

The Chums Thrice (intro)

This was Griffgroff's 2nd day of hidge-polmering, so he basically knew pretty much all there was to know about it. Hidge-polmering was the kind of thing that didn't require a great load of background knowledge or even a V scrap ingot class education. Sure, some people were naturally better than others at ancient art of hidge-polmery, but the skill curve leveled out speedily. Still, those who had worked in this field for long lengths of time had to show their superiority somehow. This was usually evident with how "experienced" hidge-polmerers would argue with each other about the hidge-polmering history, the best place to find hidges, where to buy the best polmering tools, etc. Any never-before-employed (NBE) bum could polmer any type of hidge without any instruction at all. Sure, it might take them a bit longer to figure it out and get the hang of it, but sooner than not as sooner could they get three or four hidges polmered to a point where the passing floorman could be proud of the work ethic of his new employee. Well, as proud as anyone could get in this low-skill-field (LSF). The process was so easy that some people would haphazardly polmer a hidge on their way to work, without realizing it. There was one case where the Kiwi-lord's nephew-in-law was waiting for his driver, and decided to converse with a local enrodemph to pass the time. Eight minutes into this insightful exchange of words, he realized two things: One: That his driver had not yet arrived. Two: That he had spoken to this same exact enrodemph the day before. Three: (Oh, I guess he realized three things) There was quarter-polmered hinge three feet in front of him that definitely was not polmered whatsoever when he got there. This anecdote was well known around the village. It reflects the culture and stereotype of easy hidge-polmering, as well as the citizens' popular assumption of the Kiwi-lord's nephew-in-law's apparently low intellect. What were we discussing, again? Oh, yes, right. Our good friend Griffgroff.

Griffgroff was following two higher ups into the hidge pits. The higher-ups were mumbling back and forth to each other without paying their follower any notice. Griffgroff didn't have a shovel, and wasn't sure if he needed one. He was worried that by the time he got to the work site, he'd be useless, so he piped up and said, "Excuse me gentlemen, do I need shovel? I'm worried that by the time I get to the work site, I'll be useless." The higher ups stopped in their tracks and turned to face Griffgroff. The shorter, fatter, meaner looking one looked at the other higher up and said, "Did this kid just call us 'gentlemen?'" After three seconds of silence and awkward eye contact shared to all, the short, fat, mean looking man burst into uncontrollable laughter. Suddenly the mean man didn't look so mean. He was more like Santa with 5 o clock shadow, if Santa was an alcoholic. Smiling, the fat man responded, "2nd day on the job and you're still asking questions? If there are no shovels at the site, we'll just take one from another, my dear boy." The taller, lankier, stupider-looking higher up bent down and said, "Did you just call that kid a dear boy?" The fat man's smirk went away as he said, "Don't steal my jokes, Mervin, I paid a lot for 'em.")

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