Cemented

I have a job where I pour cement. I’m especially good at making sidewalks. I have so much pride that I stay at the job site after I punch the clock. I want to defend the sidewalk from squirrels and kids. Squirrels unknowingly lay tracks. Kids knowingly sign their names.

Last night this kid came towards my sidewalk with a stick in hand. He didn’t see me sitting in my car. I shined my headlights at him. The kid froze. I got on my car p.a. and said, “Drop the stick!” The kid was too nervous to loosen his grip.

I got out of my car and walked up to the kid.

I said, “I’m sorry, son, but I can’t let you write on my sidewalk.”

The kid looked beyond me and grimaced. I turned around and saw a squirrel putting all four of its paws deep in the still wet cement. The squirrel look at me and shrugged.

The squirrel said, “But it feels soooo good.”

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