Constriction or Noise

Choices, For Better or Worse

When Elbert built the patio, it was the first time some of the first shift crew had drank in the sunshine in twenty years.

Elbert didn’t really “build” anything, just made a deal to share Fantastic Falafel’s dumpster, got rid of his own, then fenced in the back of the property and threw some picnic tables back there.

Phil Lewis’s kid timed it to drink back there during the Thursday beer delivery because he swore you got a head buzz from the truck exhaust coming through the fence.

Wednesday Night Drag Queen Bingo was making Elbert more cash than two months of pool league, and he was the happiest he had ever been, except someone spraypainted “Queer L” on the wooden slats of Elbert’s new fence.

Elbert assumed the second word was gonna be Lover but something had spooked the vandal and they ran.

He really wanted to spray paint “Come inside the bar and say it to my face”, but if they had been too chickenshit to finish the message they probably wouldn’t take him up on it.

He was crouched outside his patio, a few years removed from being able to crouch comfortably, scrubbing the paint off the wood slats with graffiti remover Radke’s Hardware had given him a two for one on. Drag Queen Bingo wasn’t going anywhere, he figured it might happen again.

He eradicated the Q that took up four slats of fence, and was working on the U when he realized he could save the last E and R and just paint Elbert’s on the fence.

He paused.

Nah, I hate the way the letters look. If the vandal had been more artistic maybe…

Elbert moved to his right, scrubbing. He yawned, closed his eyes.

Something warm and wet hit him in the chest, just below the collar of his Ben Wallace t-shirt, and splattered up onto his neck.