“I used to follow the odd jobs truck down the street when I’d see it. My friends did too, we all went together. We’d run, skate, or bicycle as fast as we could to keep up. Usually it would pass us easily but we could see it far enough ahead that we could catch up once he stopped. There weren’t many hills in our town, at least not in the neighbourhood where most of us lived, nor in the downtown. It wasn’t the easiest, anyway.

On summer days, sometimes you could see something, like the blank space of the world was bending slowly up from the ground. We’d be so hot, not wanting to even touch the ground on our knees (the way children often do to examine an insect). You knew that it would be a lousy bit of luck if someone pushed you into one of those overgrown juniper hedges—somehow the scratching and their smell goes hand-in-hand with those hot days. If you’ve ever smelled a hot juniper you’ll know what I mean. I’ll always think of juniper as an unbearable torture for the flesh of a sunstruck day.

One day, we’re all chasing the odd jobs truck. We assume someone needed a fence fixed or something like that. His truck stops and he gets out, he heads into the house—doesn’t ring the doorbell or even knock. We were surprised because it wasn’t his house. It was Mrs. Kary’s. She was Junk’s mom but Junk wasn’t with us that day. Usually he’d be chasing the odd jobs truck just like the rest of us. Anyway, we waited for a few minutes. Since the odd jobs man didn’t come back to his truck quickly, we assumed he had a more difficult job on-hand.

We were curious enough to tunnel through the juniper in front of the Karys’ house. We managed, under cover of prickly juniper, to close the gap between the road and the side window of the house. After getting close enough, we craned our necks to peer inside. We saw the odd jobs man standing in front of Mrs. Kary and Junk. Mrs. Kary seemed to be holding Junk. Junk had what looked like a big hole in his right cheek. It wasn’t bleeding or anything like that, it was just a clean hole.

The odd jobs man licked Junk’s right cheek. He kept licking, over and over, while we watched. After a quarter hour or so, the odd jobs man moved aside and we all saw, Junk didn’t have that hole anymore. His cheek looked normal. Junk, trembling, looked like he kept silent. The odd jobs man seemed satisfied with his work, winked at Mrs. Kary, and stepped around Junk to her direction. She kept still. Methodically, the odd jobs man sat down at the piano and started playing. We couldn’t hear but Junk smiled, so it must’ve been good. Then he picked up his box of tools and left the Kary house.”

This was published here on Sunday, 22 July 2007 at 10:05 and is filed under Junk Culture. You may leave a response, or trackback from your own site.