Dead Weight (Part 2)

Part 1 here - https://storiesfromonhigh.blogspot.com/2022/08/dead-weight-part-1.html

Jack wasn’t particularly fond of his job, but he was very fond of having a job.

“Keep it moving, you slackers!” Philp yelled as they worked their way through the garbage that was heaped at the back of the alley. “This filth aint moving itself!”

Under his breath Jack muttered, “I don’t know, Phill. Some of this crap is practically alive.” He saw the guy next to him, Sean, smile and wondered again if his tendency to think out loud, no matter how quiet, would get him in trouble some day. He didn’t feel any better when Sean muttered back in his soft Irish accent.

“Some of the foremen don’t take kindly to talk’n. Think you are talking back, even if you arn’t.” He scooped up some of the junk with his feed shovel. “Best keep your thoughts to yourself.” He turned and threw it on the pile in the back before bending to his task again. Jack just nodded and hauled off a busted arm chair that looked like it had traveled to that spot via someone’s third story window.

He, Sean, and Roc, the quiet Italian, kept shifting the trash from the ground to the truck while Phill kept yelling at them to get a move on. Jack had mucked his fair share of his family’s barn as a kid, but didn’t think that you had to do stuff like this in the city. Mucking out the barn had been his least favorite chore, “and now, I get to do it all day, every day.”

“What’s that?” Phill snapped. Jack realized he had been right next to the truck when his thoughts slipped out of his mouth and within earshot of Phillip. “Nothing, just thinking about how I get to work doing something I’ve done before. Not everyone is fortunate enough to do work they are so familiar with.” He gave Phill a wide smile. His white teeth flashing in contrast with his dark skin. He dumped his load of trash and started back before Phill could say anything about his slacking. Phill did say something, but Jack ignored the racial slur and just kept working.

Roc and Sean had just off loaded a large broken piece of furniture as Jack turned with his own load when he felt something hit his head. “Crima nedley! Ow!” Then he heard the crash and realized his head was wet. Phill had a look on his face that said, “I’m not sure how, but I’m sure you planned that.” At least the other guys hurried over with looks of concern on their faces. “What the blazes?” He realized he was sitting in the junk and that there were freshly cut flowers lying in the dirty street. “How’d those get there?” His hand went to his head and felt something sharp. He looked at his hand and saw water and some blood. “What’s going on?”

“Jacky boy, you alright?” Sean asked. “I turn’d and like a lightning bolt saw a vase bean you on the head.” Roc, seeing that Sean was looking after Jack, was looking up the side of the building. Jack felt Sean pull a couple of things out of his hair and winced and some required a little tug. “Did you blaspheme the Almighty recently?” “Gatto!” Sean paused in his ministrations and looked at Roc. “What spaghetti are you talkin’?” Roc pointed and repeated, “Gatto” then looked at them and made animal ears, “Meow.” Sure enough, at that moment, Jack saw a white and gray cat jump onto the truck bed and dive into the rubbish. “Fast cat.” he mumbled but then heard a shriek from on high and cursing. Something about “Kitty, why must you push everything off of ledges?” he swiveled his head skywards and saw a ginger tabby striding across an open windowsill. "Maybe the two cats were in on it." He muttered. Sean and Roc both looked at him but as he didn't elaborate, they just shrugged and bent to get the next piles as Phill snapped at them to keep moving. Jack stumbled to his feet and managed to help clear the rest of the debris without falling over, though he did stagger several times. His head pounded, but as he worked he was able to distract himself from it. "Hell of a thing to happen to a guy."