"You are a
bullshit artist, huh? All right, you put your box in. If my electricity
bills are too high, though, I take it down."
"That's a deal," Andy said. "How about I do it this morning, before you
get busy? Won't take more than a couple minutes."
The Greek's was midway between his place and Kurt's, and Kurt hardly
stirred when he let himself in to get an access point from one of the
chipped shelving units before going back to his place to get his ladder
and Makita drill. It took him most of the morning to get it securely
fastened over the sign, screws sunk deep enough into the old, spongy
wood to survive the build up of ice and snow that would come with the
winter. Then he had to wire it into the sign, which took longer than he
thought it would, too, but then it was done, and the idiot lights
started blinking on the box Kurt had assembled.
"And what, exactly, are you doing up there, Al?" Kurt said, when he
finally stumbled out of bed and down the road for his afternoon
breakfast coffee.
"Larry's letting us put up an access point," he said, wiping the pigeon
shit off a wire preparatory to taping it down. He descended the ladder
and wiped his hands off on his painter's pants. "That'll be ten bucks,
please."
Kurt dug out a handful of coins and picked out enough loonies and
toonies to make ten dollars, and handed it over.
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