Anvil Blow

Autumn’s room mate Jove graduated from the Culinary Institute recently, and moved temporarily back to his family’s place in Arkansas. I liked Jove. At first I wasn’t sure of him. Something seemed a little off center about him. Occassionally very late at night when Autumn and I should have been sound asleep, I would hear Jove talking to himself in his bedroom. He must have been talking to someone on the phone I thought but after it happened more than just a few times I realized he was telling himself to shut up. Rather forcibly and repeatedly he would tell himself to shut up. That creeped me out a tad bit. Jove seemed harmless enough. Autumn never had any problems with him during the time he rented from her so it was all good.

Jove called up Autumn the other day to say hello. She told me he was drunk. The funny thing about the conversation, she said, was when Jove told her what he had been up to since he got back home. He mentioned that he had been spending time blowing up anvils. When Autumn pressed him for details what that was about, he said you put an anvil out in an open field. Then you have to put explosives on it and put another anvil on top of that. Autumn asked, “Then what do you do?” Jove thought about it for a moment and said in a drunken slur of words, “Then… you… fucking run AWAY.”

So I guess that’s what people do for fun in Arkansas. Blow anvils sky high with dynamite. Neat.

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~ by factorypeasant on November 9, 2005.

One Response to “Anvil Blow”

  1. Anvil Tossing he called that.

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