Jarheads

Rock sat back in the deck chair he'd dragged to the front of the house, enjoyed the fuck out of his beer and watched the Christmas lights going up.

For more years than he cared to remember, he'd fought with those damned things. They got tangled, one would go out and they'd all go out. He'd invariably hit his thumb with a hammer putting in the little hooks that kept the lights in place, or whack his head on the porch overhand. Something. There was always something.

This year he was supervising.

Why he hadn't thought of hiring some student to do it for him before now was beyond him, but it looked like you could eventually teach this old dog new tricks.

He took another mouthful of beer and grinned as a curse floated down from the roof.

"You've almost got it," he called out encouragingly. "And there's a mug of hot chocolate and cookies here when you're done."

Oh yeah, he was enjoying putting up the Christmas lights this year.