text: Phil Connors rubbed his palms across his face and placed them on the back of his head while he slowly leaned back in his chair and contemplated his next move. He never thought he’d be the type of person to sit behind a desk. Funny how things change. Shortly after high school, he worked as an intern at a small marketing firm and hated it with every fiber of his being. Then one day during his lunch break he saw an ad in the classifieds from the Bricklayers Union seeking people for an apprenticeship, and didn’t hesitate for a second to make a career change. So, he traded in his penny loafers for a pair of work boots and abandoned his leisurely job for a lifetime of lower back pain and calloused hands. Forty-two years, he’s been in construction. Forty-two long, arduous years. First as an apprentice, then as a journeyman, then a foreman and for the last 6 years as the Area Manager. A promotion he was more than grateful for. The raise in pay afforded his wife an early retirement and the work wasn’t nearly as physically taxing which did wonders for preserving his body. But with the big bucks, came bigger responsibilities, more stress and worse headaches. And when difficult decisions needed to be made, Phil often missed the grunt work, especially on a day like today when he had bad news to deliver. There was a knock on the door. His visitor had arrived. Phil sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Come in,” said Phil. “It’s-a me! Mario!” Mario excitedly declared. “Yes, Mario. I know it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Please, sit down,” Phil said while motioning toward the empty chair in front of his desk. Boing! In an impressive display of athleticism Mario leapt from the doorway to the chair. Phil deeply exhaled, “Look, I’ll be Frank.” “Okie Dokie, Frank. I’ll be Mario!” Phil couldn’t help but to chuckle. He had to give it to him. The little fucker was funny. “Mario, do you remember the last meeting we had three weeks ago?” Mario shrugged. “Ok, let me refresh your memory. You were working with Walters and his crew at the KFC remodel on 5th street, when for no apparent reason, you picked up a turtle and threw him at the wall as hard as you could. Do you remember that?” Mario nodded. “And I had to put you on probation. Remember that? Mario nodded again. “You know, Mario, PETA was right across the street protesting that day. Can you imagine the shit storm we would’ve been under had one of them seen you? Not to mention, it’s a fucking psychotic thing to do. I mean, seriously, who the hell throws a turtle?” “It-a was trying to kill-a me!” “I highly doubt that, Mario,” Phil leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Look man, I like you. I really do. Walters says you’re the best brick mason he’s ever worked with, and I might have to agree. Your work ethic is unparalleled. But you’re a loose cannon. Some of the other guys are afraid of you, Mario. You make them uneasy. There have been many complaints. But so far I’ve managed to look the other way. We would have to hire two people to replace you. You’re too good of a worker....” “Oh, thats-a kind of you to say!” Mario interrupted. Phil smacked his desk with a clenched fist. “Dammit Mario! Let me finish. You know I wouldn’t have believed it were even possible had Davis not taken a video of it. But after that stunt you pulled today, I’m afraid there’s no way we can keep you.” “Oh no, but-a why?” “You punched a brick chimney right off of a house, Mario! Absolutely demolished it with your bare hands. How the hell are you that strong, anyway? Mike Tyson can’t punch through bricks. You’re 4’3” and weigh 90 pounds. It makes no sense. It should be physically impossible. I don’t know how you did it. But I do know why you did it. Davis tells me...” Phil sighed before continuing. “...I can’t believe I’m even saying this. Davis tells me you thought there was money inside?” “I had to get-a the coins, so I can save-a the princess!” Phil leaned forward, pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and deeply exhaled. “Which brings me to your excessive drug use. I’m not here to narc people out, Mario. That’s not my intent. I know many of the guys here have their own way of unwinding after a long day. Hell, I’ve been known to indulge myself every now and then. But smoking a joint at your house after your shift is over is one thing. Using hallucinogenics on the clock is another and I can no longer turn a blind eye towards it. Mario, mushrooms aren’t meant for daily consumption. They’re more of an every once in a while kind of drug, understand? They’re the type of drug you take on a camping trip in the middle of the woods to get in touch with nature. You’re not supposed to pop them on a Tuesday afternoon while you’re at work. I need you focused, Mario. I can’t have you out there tripping balls on the job site, climbing flag poles and playing with fire! Walters told me the other day you raced in twenty minutes late, and your whole body was shimmering like a strobe light. Said it freaked him the fuck out. You care to explain that?” “Yes, I ate-a a star!” “You ate a star?” Phil said in a puzzled tone. “You know what. I don’t even want to know what that’s slang for. Honestly, the less I know the better. Mario, you leave me no choice, pal. I have to fire you.” “Oh-No! You make-a me sad!” “I’m sorry, buddy. The good news is I may have found you a new gig. An old acquantice of mine owns a plumbing company and is always looking for help. He’s a crazy fucker. Kinda reminds me of you. He pays well. And it’s under the table too, no taxes. There’s one catch. It’s extremely unflattering work. He only takes on the tough jobs. The ones no one else wants to take. But the money is good. Last time I heard from him, he was looking for two guys. So, he could take on you and your autistic brother, Luigi. His name is Bowser. I’d be willing to give you a recommendation. How’s that sound?” Boing “Let’s-a-go!” Mario shouted while exiting the room in one hop. Phil connors picked up the phone, dialed, and chuckled to himself. “Mario. That little fucker is a lunatic.