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Doug is all too familiar, they just come with construction sites/road repairs. The Doug I knew also dabbled in credit card fraud and was quite proud of it. Of course, he didn't have the cognitive capacity for it, so most attempts were short lived, but it didn't stop them from recurring anyway. Giant stomach, but the rest was skinny. High cut beard line that didn't hide his weak jaw. Also really enjoyed prosties. Somehow, he was married to a sweet lady. Still is I think.

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They walk among us

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Im going to write a whole series of stories about Maniacs out on the Jobs HAAH. Ill link you when I do

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Nice!! I look forward to it!

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Reminds me of a guy we used to call Animal. In the logging camps north BC. Used to eat with his hands and never talk. Just grunt.

Im going to write my Cow Boy Coppersmith Stories now.. look out for them.. rough times out there on the sites :)

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I think anyone who has ever worked a blue collar job has met at least one person who's like this. Quirky fellers. Fodder for stories, at least!

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Olivetti lettera 77 portable

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Lettera 22, yep!

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Yeah, 22. And 55 days at Peking

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I loved this poem! I could feel the freezing cold as I read about your shifts flagging with Doug. Your poem reminds me of Kate Benton’s graphic memoir, Ducks, about her time working in the Alberta oil sands.

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Thanks a bunch!

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POETRY FICTION! Love it!

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