Jimbo handles the hammer as though he’d been meant to take on such responsibilities before he was even born. Of course, this is a preposterous notion. No human is predestined to wield implements created by other humans in a bygone era, at least not evolutionarily so. But try telling that to Jimbo as he pounds those nails into the linoleum. The fluid motion he successfully demonstrates on nail after superfluous nail just proves how our species has throttled survival of the fittest. The floor doesn’t even need any nails pounded into it today (or any other day for that matter), but that doesn’t stop Jimbo from banging away. Logic will only get you so far in a world this mad. How can a person be faulted for performing the task his hands and sweaty brow demand? Besides, once the hammering is complete, Jimbo will set up an intricate web of twine trip wire designed to upend even the sneakiest of midnight fridge robbers. “No more,” says Jim to himself as he mindlessly pulverizes nail after vindicating nail. “No more rat bastards taking my bread pudding.”
WHARVED 