Monday, January 25, 2010


When the first rebar poked up through the turf, only old Pickles noticed. Nobody paid the dog any mind at first.

By the time everyone gathered around the site, the first webbing of new-grown concrete was just visible.

“Reckon it’s a stripper,” said Cornelius. “I’ll fetch m’tractor.”

Knocking it down didn’t do much. Neither did weed-killer, fire, or the barrel of hydrochloric from the old plant. It just grew. Soon, even the tractor couldn’t make a dent.

One morning, everybody sighed. They put on their name-tags and pastel polo shirts, and they all trooped into the waiting stores. Pickens hid under his porch and howled.

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