He has a smile on his face the entire time we work, and when I point out the nails he’s removing are called brads, he gleefully starts making jokes. “Fuck, that brad was tight. Really had to wiggle my way in.” “Heh. Wanna watch me hammer myself?” “Hello, brad. I’m Brad. Prepare to meet your doom, as there can only be one.” I wonder if he’d prefer a spring or fall wedding.
