Zeke and Cletus were packing up after roofing in Louisville for most of August.
They had been working for a two-bit outfit and the shingle elevator had crapped out in the first week. They had spent the next three weeks humping bundles of shingles up the ladder at two in the morning.
They worked until eight on the east sides of the roofs and then eight-until-noon on the shady side. After noon the shingles got too hot and fragile to stand on.
It had been a hard gig and Zeke had celebrated the end of the job by doing some power-drinking.
"Ya know, Cletus, mixin' drinks is a really bad idea. Ever' time I mix drinks I get hung-over." Zeke said.
"Keep packin' your shit. We got another job to get to up in Indiana." Cletus growled.
"An everybody knows that line about mixin' drinks is an old wive's tale." Cletus said. He had no tolerance for slackers and Zeke was definitely draggin' ass.
"No man. It is a fact!" Zeke said, wincing.
"So what drinks did you mix thats got you so messed up?" Cletus asked.
"Well, I started with a pint of vodka, then I had three shots of bourbon, then a bottle of port, an then...." Zeke ticked off.
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