A Brick Too Far

Darling, do you think you could fix the front step? A bit has fallen off.

The Good Lady asked breezily as if my spare-tyre man-fail hadn't happened a little less than a week ago.

Fix the front step? I puffed my chest out and grinned. This. This was a job for a man who can and that man who can was me.

Of course I bloody can, I have a big bag of bloody cement in the garage. I will have that step done in no time.

I stood and flexed my right bicep like Sly Stallone fondling a big gun in the eighties.
_{^{not a euphemism... Or is it? It was the eighties after all.}}

It's not the stone bit, it is the brick sort of bit?

The Good Lady said with the certainty of some kind of masonry master. I wondered if she had a funny handshake to go with this certainty.

Although truthfully, in all the years of hand shandies I had received I had never noted anything untoward.

The brick sort of bit? Ha, well, if you must know lady-o. I happen to have some bricks in the garage!

I straightened my back and smouldered sexily at her as if I were a bricklayer and she a straight piece of string tied along the length of a half-built wall.

You have bricks in the garage? Really?

She looked a little perplexed and well she might. My bricks had always been something I kept to myself. But not now. Oh no, now the bricks were needed I was coming out.

Yes indeed milady, I have many many bricks!

I preened a little.

The Good Lady blew her cheeks out and frowned.

Why on earth do you have many bricks? I mean, what did you get them for?

She poked me playfully in the chest as if I were hiding some scandalous secret that a large pile of bricks could only conceal.

Well, my dear. I like to keep a pile of bricks on hand just in case I want to brick you up in the wall! MOHOWAHHR!

I made a grabbing gesture at her and gave her a little chase around the room.

After some moments we stopped and slightly out of breath (I blame covid) we resumed where we had left off.

So, very good. You have lots of bricks. But really, why? I am fascinated as to what you ever think you could have done with them.

She put on that cheeky face that she puts on when she thinks that the flowers that arrived were actually from me.

I lowered my voice to a gravelly hush.

I don't just have bricks my darling. I have mortar too. Lots of lovely mortar.

I winked, it felt like the occasion demanded it.

That's nice.

She edged away from me as if worried I were Aberdonian.

And a trowel. Oh yes, a trowel. I have it all baby.

Before I could start getting my clothes off and showing off my skills she shooed me with a poo-poo'ing motion toward the front of the house.

Ok Ok, I get it, you are practically an expert bricklayer. Well, off you go. Although, you might be disappointed. I don't think you need lots of bricks. I think it only needs half of one at most.

HA! Half? I don't deal in half bricks lady. I said I am a man of many bricks, full bricks. Lovely hard bricks.

I jutted my lower jaw out as if ploughing a very small field for the local mouse.

Well, see for yourself.

The Good Lady turned away as if keen to end this delightful conversation.

I tsk'ed and headed out the front to see this so-called 'step'.

---

A short survey of the step led me to let out a dissatisfied sigh. She was right. It looked like half a brick on the corner had somehow dissolved. How odd. Oh well, I would just cut a brick in half and stick it in.

Easy.

Yanking the garage door open I surveyed my secret corner where all things brick lurked.

I hefted the one in the small pile closest to me. Lord, it was a solid little bastard.

I tried breaking it in half with my hands. Nothing. Hmm, now how the hell do you break a brick?

Should I hit it?

I picked up one of my other bricks and used it to club at the first one I had laid out half hanging off the edge of another.

The brick that was the target of my affections broke into many brick pieces.

What the bloody fuck? Fucking brick bastard?!

I cursed to myself and had a look around. My garage door was wide open to the world. Swiftly I closed it and returned to the brick conundrum.

Many hours later I returned to the house, covered in reddish dust.

Oh, hey you! Did you manage it ok? You were gone for aaages!

The Good Lady chirped happily at me, no doubt in awe of my brickaciousness.

Hmmph, yeah. It's done.

I slumped into an armchair and sighed softly like an asthmatic kitten.

Hey, what's wrong? I thought you loved bricks. You are the brick King!

She looked concerned at the visible dimming of my lust for life.

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

Bricks are shite.