The contractor pointed out three places where nails I had driven into studs had broken through the sides of the noggins. Three nails out of how many thousands I had put into this house?
He told me to fix them and went on about how he puts a part of himself into every house he builds.
“I understand, Terry,” I said. I picked up the nail gun, pressed it to his forehead, and drove three 3” ring shank nails into him.
And, true to Terry’s wishes, I left a piece of him in every house I built from then on.
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alt="Denied by J.B. Corso"
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alt="Winter Feast by Pauline Yates"
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