Werkstücke

Diese kurze Kurzgeschichte entstand 2012 im Rahmen des gymnasialen Projekts "The Monkey in the Kitchen Cupboard: Creative Writing in English".

Old Iron 

‘What’s wrong NOW, piece of junk!’ George shouted out and gave the mower tractor a good kick. Old Iron, as they called the machine, had grown old in years of faithful service and had been running like a stubborn mule the last couple of days.  

‘Oh well,’ George said, ‘they’ll deliver the new mower in a few days. I’m sure a shredder is already waiting for you.’

George glimpsed at his watch. He probably wouldn’t get the job finished. Old Iron reluctantly cranked after he had received another kick and bounced forward sending the chopped-off heads of the dandelions flying. He might be old and rusty, but the big rotating blade sure was still as sharp as could be! George steered the tractor around the corner to the backside of the school and disappeared out of sight. 

‘Are you coming to O’Malley’s for a beer or two?’ Mick, the chief groundskeeper, asked his workmates Eddie and Lester while putting away the tools for the day.

‘Sure, Mick.’ Lester replied and yawned. ‘Before I forget, the drain of the sink in room 234 is still clogged. We should fix it soon. The teachers have complained again.’

‘Ah, don’t bother, let them complain,’ Eddie said making a lazy gesture.

Mick thought about it for a second. ‘We’ll have a look at the bloody sink first thing tomorrow.’ After he had put a ladder on a rack, he asked: ‘Why did George leave work early today without telling me?’

Eddie and Lester exchanged quick glances. Mick tended to lose track of things. ‘Mick, George was supposed to cut the grass behind the school this afternoon.’ Lester remarked slowly and Eddie added: ‘I saw George preparing the mower after lunch. I bet Old Iron will sputter around the corner any second.’

‘What’s your explanation for this then, smarty-pants?’ Mick snapped, pointing across the yard.

Mick’s two assistants turned and noticed Old Iron sitting quietly in the yard, blade and frame covered with dirt and grass.

Lester scratched his chin, looking at the dirty tractor confusedly. ‘George never leaves a tool outside like this.’

‘I don’t give a damn. When George shows up tomorrow morning, I will kick his sorry butt. Let’s push Old Iron into the garage, and off we are. I need a beer.’

While Mick was saying this, the sun came out from behind a cloud and for a split second reflections seemed to put a smile on the tractor’s old metal face.