Eta was bored, really bored.

Scrub-bucket hadn’t returned her yarn, seemed he was intent on keeping the afghan this time. That was all well and good, but it left Eta with nothing to do. The radio didn’t work without someone on the other end. The phone was the same way.

Oh! That’s right, the boss is on the other end.

How exactly the boss was on the other end, she hadn’t a clue. Usually, the phone was only used for making DJ requests, as was customary. The day Scrub-bucket shattered his leg was the first time Eta had ever tried calling anyone else. There shouldn’t have been any point to it if the DJ himself was in the same room as her, right? Somehow, she’d actually called the boss.

Well, maybe I can smooth things over between Scrub-bucket and the boss. Put in a good word as they say.

As for who says that, she hadn’t a clue, She’d only read about that phrase in her new book, the one Scrub-bucket wrapped in a tree. And reading it was…dull to say the least. She could only take so many crazy ideas and silly parables. Of course, she knew Mother Martha’s mythos by heart, not that much was mentioned about her. But reading only exasperated her boredom. With knitting, she could tune out the world with zen-like focus.

Hesitating for half a beat, Eta finally put the banana can to her ear and pulled the string tight.

“Bwing, bwing. Bwing, bwing.”

Please don’t be in a foul mood.

“Bwing, bwing. Bwing, bwing.”

She waited and waited, then a gravely voice came over the speaker.

“Yes, yes,” the voice said, before correcting his greeting. “Yellow.”

Eta responded with the correct formalities this time. “How is your day?”

The gravely voice was also very polite. “How is your day?”

With that out of the way, Eta jumped right to the heart of the matter. “I’m calling to apologize about last week.”

“Last week?”

“I was panicked over Scrub-bucket’s broken leg and wasn’t thinking clearly. He is such a diligent caretaker and I didn’t want you to to have the wrong impression of him.”

She exhaled. Good, she got everything out that needed said, and the boss didn’t act put out by the call.

“Are you sure that was last week?” the voice said.

“Completely certain,” Eta said.

“…interesting, go on.”

Go on? Go on about what? She didn’t have anything else to say. However, the boss gave her a command and any hiccups in her behavior might reflect poorly on Scrub-bucket.

“I, uh, I like Canasta. A lot.”

“Hmm. I’m not familiar with it. What’s a Canasta?”

Oh boy! Now this was a subject she could go on for days about, and she just might have. Fortunately, the boss soaked up every word, pausing every now and then to ask her to clarify certain features. His questions ranged from 'what is a playing card?', 'what is vinyl coating?', 'what is cardboard?' to eventually questions like 'so the most viable strategy is to rule the discard pile, is that correct?', and she’d answer him as best she could. “Yes, that’s why in order to draw from the discard, you have to already be down.”

“And how do I go down?”

Somewhere along the way, Eta lost herself in conversation. Granted, she’d always appreciate Scrub-bucket’s efforts, but her companion was not a conversationalist. Actually, he made little sense most of the time. The boss, now he was another story. Eloquent, polite and truly engaged in what she had to say. It came as no surprise that Eta became a bit more adventurous as the call progressed. After all, it always started as just Canasta.

“You need to have fifty points to go down,…but there are a lot of different, uh, variations on that,” she shamelessly explained.

“And how do I get fifty points?”

“Mmm. You’re nearly there, boss.”

“Nearly there? As in where you are? I will be in a…er…week or so.”

A week? Wow, that was news to her. Actually, thinking about it, it was strange the boss wasn’t already here. Maybe he had a business trip?

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said. “You think we can play a round when you get here?”

Such useless optimism on her part, she knew her looks were haggard to say the least. It was still fun to pretend, though. Maybe she’d get really, really lucky and he’d be desperate enough for a nibble or three?

“I’m afraid we will be quite busy at that time, but after that, I’d enjoy experiencing this game.”

Got ‘em!

She cleared her throat. “Can I…uh…call you again?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Eta nearly fainted.

***************************************************

Oenus lazed against the well and not for the company. He’d been bringing Eta his Barbie-skewers every day, but his former leg was almost out of meat. Good thing he still had three times that amount on him. Nestled between his remaining leg and his stick leg was a big bucket, the one he used to use to mop the floors with. Holding it again reminded him of his old janitorial days, those happy days before Mister Jenkens arrived.

Today, it was nearly filled with blood. It didn’t catch everything, but it got most of it.

He’d forgotten how much he could bleed after the leg ordeal, and during that escapade, he’d ended up wasting a lot of his meager fortune on the ground. It goes without saying that he’d mopped up and salvaged nearly all the blood that flooded onto the chopping block and kitchen tiles, but there would always be that bit that escaped through the cracks. Nothing he could do about that.

Today, with his mop bucket, he wouldn’t have near as much clean-up work.

For the real meat of the problem, he was about finished. His handsaw had done good work. He just had to pluck that stringy white thing in half and he’d be done with it. Unfortunately, a voice in his head spoke before he could finish.

‘Boy, your nerves are about shot, eh? Eh? Eh?’

‘Yes, I get it. It’s the nerve stem. Jackass.’

‘Aren’t you testy?’

‘This doesn’t feel good’

‘But you know it’s not truly painful either.’

No, sawing off his arm off was more of a relative tickle. Maybe back in the day he’d consider it excruciating, but now, it wasn’t so bad. That was because he now knew what real pain was, what Mister Jenkens grisly machinations had in store. He hoped to never meet that cunt.

His arm jolted as he snapped the nerve stem free. With that, he could honestly say that Hand Puppet was no longer a part of him.

Leaning back against the well, he got a cruel smile on his face. He crept his detached Hand Puppet over the side of the well until it was peering down into the abyss below.

“Hand Puppet, you’re so brave!” Oenus said.

“It’s because I have no eyes,” Hand Puppet answered.

“That’s too bad, do you have a nose? Can you smell how rank that cunt is from there?”

“I have no nose either.”

“What do you have, Hand Puppet?”

Hand Puppet cackled and it echoed deep into the well. “I have a mouth.”

“And what good is that for?”

Hand Puppet answered with his actions. He took a deep breath and shouted straight down into the abyss, “fuck you, bitch!”

Oenus was so proud of his friend. If only he had the courage to stare down the well and speak his mind. Instead, all he could do is throw these minor tantrums.

He pulled Hand Puppet back and gave him a high five. “I’m really proud of you for standing up for yourself. It’s a pity I’ve gotta feed you to Eta.”

The look on Hand Puppet’s face—priceless.