galaxy42

The sun was going down and shining brightly in the faces of Little Sir and Big Junior. They sat just inside of Big Junior's garage on lawn chairs that were 30 years old and needed mending. A small wooden table sat between them. It was crafted with the greatest care by Big Junior. The bottle of whiskey sat upon it like a king. Little Sir lifted it from its throne and poured a little more of the amber life blood into his glass.

"Goddamn sun," said Big Junior as he clawed at the collar of his shirt, tugging and pulling it up over his head. His escape from the damp cloth wasn't clean or pretty either one, but he was finally a few degrees cooler.

"I agree," Little Sir said with a hoist of his glass as a salute to the air around them and the burning globe that dipped lower, ever so slowly on the lazy Sunday evening.

Both of the men could sweat in the coolest cold of winter.

"I just don't understand why it has to be so goddamn hot," Big Junior continued after a sip of whiskey.

"Or bright," Little Sir added as he squinted into the distance. He had not been able to find his sunglasses since his son's visit home from California a month ago.

"I don't think the sun cares who gets burned."

"Or goes blind," Little Sir stirred around in his chair and managed to stand, shakily thanks to the booze. He walked back into the shadowy part of the garage where the work bench stood as a monument to clutter. After pawing through the piles he returned to the ratty lawn chair with a Las Vegas dealer's visor shading his eyes.

Big Junior took in a long, deep, breath and held it for a moment before letting it out very, very, slowly. He licked his lips and took another sip.

"I think we need a better plan for the shed," said Little Sir as he looked out into the yard where a small wooden structure had begun to form in the early morning of a day nearing its end.

"Yeah," Big Junior agreed. "Progress wasn't quite with us today."

"No. No progress today." Little Sir finished his whiskey and poured out another.

"It doesn't matter. There's no rush. The old shed still keeps the rain out just fine. It's just a little cramped." Big Junior sighed.

"I can't believe how damn hot it is."

"Yeah," Big Junior sighed again and finished his glass of whiskey. The bottle that sat between the men was becoming dangerously low of the precious fluid. Another bottle would have to be crowned King before too much longer.

Little Sir's drinking hand began to shake a little. He quickly moved it to his lap and placed his free hand over the trembling wrist to steady the glass. The tremors had been coming more frequently as of late. He frowned at the insubordinate hand and made a mental note to make an appointment with Doc in the morning.

"Knock, knock," Big Junior said with a wry grin.

"Who's there?" Little Sir played along.

"Go fuck yourself," Big Junior said, letting the grin spread across his face like a demented jack-o-lantern.

Little Sir began to laugh. Big Junior giggled maniacally as he watched his brother empty the last of whiskey into his glass. He watched the bottle shake and giggled harder. Making Little Sir laugh uncontrollably had been a favorite pass time since they were children. He stood up from his chair and vanished into the shadows of the garage to find an unopened bottle to drain before the sun said its last goodbye for the day.

Little Sir grabbed his drinking hand and held it in his lap. The laughter died down and a tear streamed down his cheek. He would definitely have to call Doc in the morning.