Short Tales of Provo: PT. I

A guy was digging a hole by the side of the road as I walked home. There was a mound of dirt about 3-feet high next to him and he was waist deep in the ground, busting a shovel against the dirt to loosen it up.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m digging a hole man,” he responded. He took a minute to wipe the sweat off of his brow.

“The air smells like ginger huh?” I asked. It was oven-like outside. Warm and sweet.

“Que?” he asked. He peered down into the hole.

“Why are you digging a hole?”

“To put in a sprinkler.”

“Why are you putting in a sprinkler? This is a desert. It’s supposed to be dry.”

He suddenly looked up at me and stared hard. We stood a few feet apart; him deep in the ground, me on the dusty sidewalk.

“Why do I care if it’s a desert? I get paid to make it not,” he said. And turning back to his shovel, “I get paid to help people lie to themselves!”

Alex Christman looks up the definition of 'metaphor' every single day of his life.

4 comments:

Natalie said...

Perfect. Yeah passing this around.

Kelsie Lynn said...

Alex! This is so good.

put up the one you wrote about our camp out in forbidden mountain land, yeaH?

henryrobert said...

This is fabulous. I literally saw this scene unfold in my brain. More like this, please.

Austin said...

love this

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