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Rated: E · Fiction · Comedy · #2227764
Writer's Cramp
The wind had done its worst. What was left of the ramshackle old farm was barely standing. Jed looked around and rubbed his stubbly old face. How was he going to fix it? Then, over the horizon, came two young lads. They had sticks and were hitting the sides of the barn.

"Get off my property," the old man said, waving a shotgun in their direction.

"Sorry Mister, thought nobody lived here," Joe said, "We was just messin', didn't mean no harm."

"You kids got nothin' better to do than messin' with an old man?"

"No, I guess we aint. Nothing to do round here worth a dime," Pete said, shifting from one foot to the other. Jed lowered his gun.

"You boys any good at fixin'?"

"We real good at fixin', Mister," Joe boasted, although he had no idea what fixin' even meant.

With a bag of nails and a hammer the boys were set to work on fixin' the roof. "Ouch!" Pete screamed as he hit his thumb with the hammer. His foot slipped and more tiles slid.

"Owoo!" Joe shouted as a roof tile hit him on the head.

"Thought you boys was good at fixin'; get off my property before you kills yourself and I get the blame," Jed shouted. Pete started to climb down the ladder but slipped and fell the last few feet. With Joe's help he got up and started to leave then he turned back.

"Aint you gonna pay us Mister for all the fine work we done?"

"Get off my property," the old man shouted, waving a shotgun in their direction.

270 words
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