Мгла
After the Storm. Norton. A Trip to Town.
Ibegantogrin.Soundcarrieswellouthere,andallthebuzzingchainsawswerefairlydistant.Distantenoughformetorecognizethenot-so-dulcettonesofmynext-doorneighbor,therenownedlawyerandlakefront-property-owner,BrentonNorton.
Imoveddownalittleclosertothewater,pretendingtostrolltowardthedockbeachedonourbreakwater.NowIcouldseeNorton.Hewasintheclearingbesidehisscreened-inporch,standingonacarpetofoldpineneedlesanddressedinpaint-spottedjeansandawhitestrappyT-shirt.Hisforty-dollarhaircutwasindisarrayandsweatpoureddownhisface.Hewasdownononeknee,laboringoverhisownchainsaw.Itwasmuchbiggerandfancierthanmylittle$79.95ValueHousejob.Itseemedtohaveeverything,infact,butastarterbutton.Hewasyankingacord,producingthelistlesswhut-whut-whutsoundsandnothingmore.Iwasgladdenedinmyhearttoseethatayellowbirchhadfallenacrosshispicnictableandsmasheditintwo.
Nortongaveatremendousyankonthestartercord
Whut-whut-whutwhutwhut-WHAT!WHAT!WHAT!...WHAT!...Whut.
Almosthaditthereforaminute,fella.
AnotherHerculeantug.
Whut-whut-whut.
"Cocksucker,"Nortonwhisperedfiercely,andbaredhisteethathisfancychainsaw.
Iwentbackaroundthehouse,feelingreallygoodforthefirsttimesinceIgotup.Myownsawstartedonthefirsttug,andIwenttowork.
Aroundteno’clocktherewasataponmyshoulder.ItwasBillywithacanofbeerinonehandandSteff’slistintheother.
