Runcible Spoon

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The Massive Tools

 

We are driving along the TransCanada

somewhere just outside Massey

when I tell my wife I am going to start

a cover band.

 

Ok, she says.

She is used to hearing random

things out of the blue.

 

We’ll play nothing but Tool covers,

I say.

Call ourselves: The Massive Tools.

 

She laughs so hard

she jerks the steering wheel

so the truck veers off into the opposite

lane a bit.

 

Don’t do that!

she screams.

I don’t want to wind up

in some ditch.

 

I tell her

I would never let that happen

when our band is just

starting out.

 

Um, don’t include me in your craziness!

she says.

 

But you’re a founding member,

I say.

One of the original Massive Tools.

People will love us.

The audience will throw hammers.

 

You really are certifiable, aren’t you?

she asks.

 

I like certificates,

I say without making

eye contact.

They have your name on them

and everything.

 

Let’s talk about something else,

she begs.

 

Should our logo be a skill saw

or two crossed screwdrivers?

I ask.

 

She turns up the radio

and says nothing.

 

I smile at the glove box

because there is not a single

glove inside.

 

Scratch an old bug bite

just above the knee

like working a lucky scratch ticket

that never brought

any luck.