Psycho steve

It was another early morning, it gets so hard to go out and start the car, scrape the frost off the windshield and what long enough to go to work.  The hardest part was knowing that in a matter of 8 hours it would need to be done again, and even worse is it will be dark before I am back home.  Long commutes and redundancy really gets old this time of year.  How many sheets of Sheetrock can a guy hang before he can't deal with it anymore. Screw guns running full blast all day long, screaming and clutch grinding non stop.  To make matters worse it's even harder on the body, joints and muscles ache, skin covered in dust.

It takes a different kind of person to do this job, some guys have made poor choices, some get started and never find something else, some actually like it, and those are the ones that you watch out for.

Steve was a older guy, he spent most his life in Vegas, working on the casinos and hotels that millions of people would see and visit over the years.  In a town like that where anything that happens stays in Vegas only the walls can tell the tales they see.

He seemed normal enough, avg height and build, smoked like most his age did, not married yet not available. He came to work one day missing his shoe, he said he was at the bar, and met a nice lady, they began talking when he told her he liked varicose veins and stretch marks, and legs.  He though he was an artist I guess, he would take a sharpie marker and draw little homes,and roads.  When he came to a vein he would draw a bridge so the car could cross the river. Evidently when he told this wonderful young lady his plans for later, she got a little upset.  The ensuing commotion involved a bouncer that in turn called the cops who in turn chased him through downtown Minneapolis, only to lose him when he jumped a fence and ducked behind a dumpster.

He woke up early morning realizing he was missing more than his date from the previous night, somewhere along the way he lost a shoe.  With no time to go home he went to the job site and put in a full day of work on one red wing and a very dirty sock.

We always thought it was strange how he loved oranges, he would easily eat 10-12 a day, and as the day went on he got dumber.  It wasn't until we were cleaning up one of the guys noticed the smell, vodka. Inspecting the peels we noticed tiny holes, almost a pin prick in the skin.  Steve was mainlining vodka into his oranges, and as the day went on he would get more and more hammered. Needless to say he wasn't on the job the next day.