Billy-Joe
'We got summun electrical ter be doin', if'n we c'n help some' I was thinking along the same simple lines as I scrubbed down in the freezing water. There was no electricity, which equalled no hot water and therefore no hot shower, something which had taken longer to process than it would for the average chimpanzee.
I clambered out of the shower, towelled off my body, and shook my head, dog-like, until every hair stood to attention. That done, I slipped back into my grimy attire and, sufficiently damp that the coming work would likely prove fatal, dragged my gangly self back down to where Richard had asked to meet.
He stood leaning against a wall, opposite a door with a large danger-of-death sign upon the front, just like the one on the substation I used to play in with my cousin Stevie.
"You ready?" Richard was blunt, and even I could tell he was aggravated. I nodded, allowing my head to rock back and forth as I did so. He wrenched the door open and flicked on a torch I hadn't even noticed, then ducked into the doorway and began to follow the spiralling downward staircase. I hesitated, then followed, smacking my head on the low frame as I did so.
"Darker'n a 'gater's guts down 'ere" I murmured and, tripping to prove a point, fell the last metre or so to land face-down on the hard stone floor. Richard eyed his disapproval, but stayed his tongue, and busied himself with prizing open the generator's insulating casing. Dazed, I watched from a prone position until his patience wore thin.
"Hey hillbilly, you want that drink? Get your lanky ass over here and help me!"
