Nightmare Ranch: Meeting the Weasel

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“So who’s the guy with the goofy smile?”

“That’s the Weasel. Remember? We told you about him last night.”

“Oh yea. Wow. All the stories are starting to make sense now.”

“Exactly”

James turned to the crowd. “Alright everyone I want to introduce you to our fancy Engineer here, Darby. If y’all have any questions at all feel free to confuse the shit out of him.”

The crowd all glared. It was like they were high school freshman and I was the baby sitter. I’m good with that. Please leave me be. It was only a matter of time before they found out the truth about this project anyways.

“Nice to meet you all”

James Continued “Alright guys lets have a safe day. Remember if you need anything at all, call Darby. The boy needs his boots dirty.”

Sea of toothless concrete men erupted. “HAHAHAHA Yea will break him in alright,” one yelled. I looked down at my boots. Shit. Nothing I can do about it now. I hopped in James truck and we drove off.

Our meeting lasted forever. The clock was behind the speaker which made things worse. Around noon James and I made a play for food. “I’ll meet you in the trailer,” he told me.

I wondered around the makeshift trailer park and entered the first trailer that caught my eye.  Several GE guys we’re arguing over wind speeds, but halted when I arrived. The table starred me up and down, yet none of them looked me in the eyes. Fucking GE. They give us talkative Engineers a bad name. I broke the silence. “Is James in heeeere?” They looked at each other. The one in the back finally spoke. “Nah, wrong trailer. Next one over.” “Thanks.” I closed the door.

I walked over and opened the next trailer. There sat the Weasel. He turned decrepit body towards the door. His inch thick glasses almost fell off his nose. “Oh I chose right this time.  I went to the GE trailer last time.”

He gave me a confused look. “Oh. heh heh. Yea that’s right. Your uhhhh uhhhh. Oh jeez, I’m sorry your going to have to help me with your name again.” I looked at his computer and there was a post-it note with big letters that said ‘PASSWORD: BASEBALL@12’. “It’s Darby,” I said. “Oh yea that’s right…. Darby” he reminded himself. “Have you seen James?” I asked. There was another long pause. I felt like I could see the heat coming from his head.

“Who?” He said out loud. I threw a deep exhale. I started to speak but the light came on. “Oh geez, YOU MEAN JAMES. heh heh Duh. Some days I think I’m losing it. Heh.” His eyes looked up signaling his to brain into high gear. “Well let’s see. He came in here looking for someone. Said he was about to head to lunch. He said he was looking for AH, well you.” Shit this was going to get me know where. Before I turn and look for myself, his 70 year old voice spoke again. “Yea he’s not here. umm. I can give him a call for you, if you would like. Do you think that would help?” I couldn’t take that chance. We’d here all day. “That’s okay sir. I have my own phone. But uh thanks?” He smiled at me, like a dog pleased with his owner. “Heh Yeah. Geez, I’m sorry Darbs. I just wish I could be more help.”

I walked outside and saw James sitting in his truck. “Where you been at?” he asked. “I got stuck talking to the Weasel. You guys weren’t kidding.” He laughed and put the truck in gear.

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