Runcible Spoon

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The Massive Tools


We are driving along the TransCanada

somewhere just outside Massey

when I tell my wife I am going to start

a cover band.


Ok, she says.

She is used to hearing random

things out of the blue.


We’ll play nothing but Tool covers,

I say.

Call ourselves: The Massive Tools.


She laughs so hard

she jerks the steering wheel

so the truck veers off into the opposite

lane a bit.


Don’t do that!

she screams.

I don’t want to wind up

in some ditch.


I tell her

I would never let that happen

when our band is just

starting out.


Um, don’t include me in your craziness!

she says.


But you’re a founding member,

I say.

One of the original Massive Tools.

People will love us.

The audience will throw hammers.


You really are certifiable, aren’t you?

she asks.


I like certificates,

I say without making

eye contact.

They have your name on them

and everything.


Let’s talk about something else,

she begs.


Should our logo be a skill saw

or two crossed screwdrivers?

I ask.


She turns up the radio

and says nothing.


I smile at the glove box

because there is not a single

glove inside.


Scratch an old bug bite

just above the knee

like working a lucky scratch ticket

that never brought

any luck.