I worked in the pro shop in north little rock long ago, i was good friends with the pro and his family. the pro had watched too many episodes of this old house and considered himself a master builder. i used to drive nails for a living. anyway the pro was fond of light fixtures and wiring switches. i lived in his basement that must have had 20 various light fixtures with switches located in obscure locations.
i opened the pro shop and closed it most days, so i was up early and back late nearly every day. coming back late was not a problem cause the place lit up like downtown most of the time.
i would get up at 0400 cause i had to have the pro shop open for the early players, i'd get up have some coffee and make some toast with honey on it. the pro would get up around 0500 and i'd hear him stirring around. i would hide behind the island in the kitchen and when i heard him walk into the living room i'd pop up, not say a word, and watch his eyes become the size of hubcaps and he would act like a turtle and try to retract his head into his body. i did this day after day for months, same reaction.
one night i came back after dark and the entire house was dark, so only a few reasons, all the bulbs burned out at the same time or the power was out. only way to the basement was a spiral staircase, i fumbled my way to it, slowly descended. i knew there was a light switch about 3 feet from the bottom of the stairs in the bathroom, i made my way there and reached around the doorway to turn it on. that sorry bastige was lurking there, and as soon as i fumbled for the switch he grabbed my wrist...i almost fouled myself. and had to listen to him cackle about it for hours.
i did get even, but that's another tale
i opened the pro shop and closed it most days, so i was up early and back late nearly every day. coming back late was not a problem cause the place lit up like downtown most of the time.
i would get up at 0400 cause i had to have the pro shop open for the early players, i'd get up have some coffee and make some toast with honey on it. the pro would get up around 0500 and i'd hear him stirring around. i would hide behind the island in the kitchen and when i heard him walk into the living room i'd pop up, not say a word, and watch his eyes become the size of hubcaps and he would act like a turtle and try to retract his head into his body. i did this day after day for months, same reaction.
one night i came back after dark and the entire house was dark, so only a few reasons, all the bulbs burned out at the same time or the power was out. only way to the basement was a spiral staircase, i fumbled my way to it, slowly descended. i knew there was a light switch about 3 feet from the bottom of the stairs in the bathroom, i made my way there and reached around the doorway to turn it on. that sorry bastige was lurking there, and as soon as i fumbled for the switch he grabbed my wrist...i almost fouled myself. and had to listen to him cackle about it for hours.
i did get even, but that's another tale
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