Death of an Auger

“We need twenty-four posts, 12 ten foot 2x4s, 6 sixteen foot 2x4s, 36 eight foot deck boards, 10 ten foot deck boards, and 8 2x6x8s.” “Wait a minute. How many posts?” “Twenty-four.” “I ain't digging 24 damn holes. That auger will kill me.” “It's only 16 holes, 8 are on concrete.” “It's 9:30 and already 91 degrees. Somebody ain't gonna make it through the day.” They loaded the posts last and as he laid every one on the trailer they seemed to come to life and taunt him. The auger laid in the back of the van, the dull blade laughing. “Is that it?” “We need 16 bags of concrete.” “What size?” “80 pounders.” “For the love of Jeff.” “Who the hell is Jeff?” “Nobody. Will you drive, please?” “Sure thing.”

They headed down the interstate and he slowly fell asleep. He dreamed the same dream that kept him from sleeping at night. He was stuck in the middle of a huge crowd, there were people everywhere, bumping into him and keeping him from going anywhere. He couldn't move, he couldn't see, he couldn't breathe. Somewhere in the sea of people she was out there, separated from him. He would catch a glimpse now and then. He could always spot her face even if he couldn't keep track of her for long. He could feel something about to happen. It was palpable. Alive. He saw her again, she was looking in his direction but not at him, he waved his arms and yelled. The crowd was too big. Suddenly it all turned to chaos and it was no where near controlled. She was gone, swept away in the sea. He heard someone calling to him, “Wake up.” “What?” “We're at exit 42, you want a drink?” “Sure do.” “You were dreaming weren't you?” “Yeah.” “It was bad, huh?” “A big crowd, got separated, couldn't get close again.” “Sorry.” “It's just a dream. Doesn't mean anything. Let's get a drink and head on.”

About an hour later they had their lumber and tools unloaded and set up. He looked around and wondered why there was never any damn shade in the ghetto. “What's the temp?” “It says 96 degrees.” “It isn't even noon yet.” “You want the auger or the post-hole diggers?” “Well I got asked this morning how come we've been through 5 pairs of post-hole diggers.” “What did you say?” 'I told him because I've been digging holes.” “What did he say?” “What would you have said?” “Nothing.” “Give me the auger.” “You sure? You're down 0 to 2.” “It's a battle of attrition. I'm gonna win, eventually.” He took the auger, primed it, flipped the switch to choke, and pulled the cord. Once, twice, three times; he pulled the cord.” “Turn it on.” “Shit.” He flipped one switch to on and the other from choke to run; and pulled once more to start the auger.

The sun beat down on his shaved head and the sweat slowly dripped into his eyes. He had a death grip on the handles. On hole done, two, three, four. He stopped for a moment, left the auger running, and drug it across the ground like he'd drag some wannabe out the door if he was still in his twenties and 80 pounds heavier. He grabbed a gallon of water out of his cooler, took a nice long drink, and went back to digging. Five holes done, six, seven, eight. Halfway there. “I'll finish.” He looked to his left, made a face, and shook his head. “That auger hasn't done a damn thing to you.” “The hell it hasn't!” “It's an inanimate object.” “It's the damn devil. It's the stumbling block. The auger and I are at an impasse.” “You're crazy.” “So.” Nine holes done, ten, eleven, twelve. The engine sputtered and almost died. There was plenty of fuel. “Hey, there is something wrong with the auger.” “There's something wrong with you.” “I'm serious.” “The blade is dull.” “The damn blade has been dull. That's normal. There is something different.” “I don't know. Has it got fuel?” He nodded his head and went back to his work. Thirteen holes done.

He started on the next and about a foot into the dirt the auger let out a whine, it started to smoke, a bead of sweat fell onto the exhaust and sizzled away into something beyond steam. He pushed the auger down harder and held the throttle as fast as it would go. The blade twisted and corkscrewed down another foot into the earth. “Let it cool off!” He didn't hear the warning, it wasn't for his benefit anyway. He pushed with his arms, laid his chest against the engine, gritted his teeth. He bent his head in close to the auger, “You're done.” He pushed the throttle down, the engine whined again, the smoke was as black as night. Six more inches to go. He finished the hole and pulled the spinning blade out of the ground as the engine caught fire and died. He reached out to his right and took the post-hole diggers that were waiting for him. “That's the only pair we have, there's two holes left, try not to murder those before you're finished.”