Jack and The Picnic Table
No, Jack is up before dawn insisting that the sun arise because he is ready for it to do so. Unlike the rest of us, the sun ignores him, but only because it is too far away for him to pummel it into submission. If it were 10 feet closer, it too would listen, if only to get him to shut up.
After his morning ablutions are complete, Jack dons his bib overalls, his favorite pair of bibs in fact. Why is this particular pair of bibs his favorite? Simply put, they are the only ones that still fit him. Jack grabs his shoes from the floor, and sits on the bed to put them on. Amazingly his wife Karen remains asleep. After more stomping, mumbling, coughing and cursing, Jack is out the door. He climbs into the Dodge pickup parked in the garage, fires the engine, opens the garage door and is now free to do as he damn well pleases.
By the time he reaches the end of the lane and turns onto the road, the sun emerges. Jack responds to it by saying “About damn time you got up you bastard”. Driving with purpose, Jack is on his way to the second most important part of his day (the first being popping the tab on a cold beer). It’s now time for the men to gather at the picnic table in town, the one reserved only for those gentleman who have lived long enough to earn the right to tell everybody else what to do. It is here, at this picnic table in the park where the first of three breakfasts are consumed, when politics are discussed, gossip is exchanged and the world is turned aright.
Arriving exactly at 5:30 Jack approaches the picnic table. None of the other men are there as of yet. This is both puzzling and annoying to Jack, because for the second time this day, something has caused him to wait (the damn sun being the first). Jack grumbles, coughs, scratches, complains then hitches up his overalls as he prepares to lower himself onto the end of the picnic table. Clearly, Jack has not thought this through, he does not yet realize that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
When 350 pounds of Jack Randall, descends upon the farthest most end of the picnic table, the other end (as it is not bolted to the ground) flips over 180 degrees, pinning Jack beneath it. The first thought that enters Jacks head is not “Holy crap, I’m trapped underneath a picnic table” rather it is, “Where the hell are those bastards, they’re late” Jack remains unconcerned about his predicament, after all this is not the first time that he has found himself in a situation that would scare most of us shitless No, Jack knows in the very core of his being that eventually everything will turn out all right. Jack has a great deal of experience with calling deaths bluff while holding only a pair of deuces.
As fate would have it, (fate has a way of responding to Jacks wishes, as unlike the sun it is close by) his friends arrive. After some not so stifled laughing, the picnic table is lifted. Does Jack respond by saying “Thanks guys, you really saved my life” No, Jack simply says “Why are you all late?” and “Did any of you pecker heads bring coffee?”
Up ahead Jack sees the electric fence that serves to keep livestock out of the woods. Where one man might see danger, Jack sees opportunity. It’s now time for Jack to teach his son another life lesson. Now, you might be thinking to yourself “Oh no, this is going to end badly” or perhaps even “No, no, don’t do it kid, don’t touch the fence, you’ll get electrocuted.” Remember the fall, the fall that damaged Jacks edit function? Could the fall have damaged more than just an edit function we might ask? Against all reason (or maybe just to piss reason off) Jack tells his son to touch the fence.