The Name on the Sign

Posted by on Aug 3, 2017 in Prose | 0 comments

I’m cleaning up an exhaust valve with a bench grinder when my mechanic tells me this:

There used to be this ol’ boy who worked for me. I had him cleaning the parts. One day he said to me, “Why do I have to be the one that gets greasy all the time?”

I walked him outside of the shop and pointed up to the sign.

“You see that sign?” I said. “It says ‘Danny’s Garage.'” I’m Danny. You get to wash the parts.”

“Did he stick around?” I ask.

“No, not much longer.”

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