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he'd never stand up to them. He knew it. Which
is why he was standing where he was, knee deep in other people's shit.
               He'd never risk his job. He knew that, and they
knew that as well.
               No. He would smile. And say "Yes, sir, no
sir, whatever you say, sir."
               The resentment had grown, and festered. He
thought, dwelled, obsessed about it every night on the way home when he stopped
for a drink. Or two. Or so. He didn't know how long he would be able to
continue the charade. It didn't matter how much he needed the work. Or so he
told himself.
               Soon, the resentment turned from a passive
condition that ate away at him daily to a slowly heating hatred of those above
him, eventually turning him from nursing a hot anger to an icy cool
contemplation of revenge. Then, almost at once, decision made, his attitude
changed. For now, rather than pitying his position, he had decided to use it.
               He would bide his time.
               Watch.
               Wait.
               And when the time came, he would nail every one
of those bastards to the wall.
               The plan was simple. Basic. Safe. He began documenting
all the things done wrong. Anything that they could get into trouble over. Late
lunches, shoddy supervision. Unauthorized borrowing of equipment. Anything
wrong.
               He knew the rules. They had certainly been
pointed out enough to him over the years. Oh yeah, he knew them. He kept a
list, and he was going to turn it over. It was an impressive list - over the
past several months, his little book had pages and pages. Dozens of pages. He
enjoyed flipping the pages, much as a reclusive miser, stacking gold coins. It
was with the greatest pleasure that he completed each page, and he would relish
reviewing that page over beers that night, each page another notch in his belt.
               A splash caught his attention. As the brackish
water receded, he saw the culprit. Some of the stone was coming loose, a result
of great age, and the washing out of some of the ancient grout supporting it,
due to the leak. He stepped back. The entire section of wall looked as if it
could collapse. It would be just his luck - trapped under a wall of stone,
drowning in other people's shit. Sounded like a metaphor of his life. He
stepped back further. Not his problem, anyway.
               The water had almost completely drained, so he
checked his work again. Satisfied it was okay, and that the regular drain was
functional again, he turned off the pump, gathered his tools and headed back to
the locker room. It was going to take more than a quick shower to get rid of
the stench of today.
               Back in the locker room, he peeled off the soggy
clothes. Leaving the clothes in a pile on the floor, he stepped into the
shower. At least there was hot water. That wasn't always the case. The one good
thing, probably the only good thing today. Alone in a hot shower,
getting rid of all the crap, literally and figuratively, from the day. He
leaned back, letting the warm water hit him in the face, running down his
chest, rinsing off the putrid remainder of the day.
               "What the- somebody take a shit in here? Who
in the hell left this - is that - NoWienee - is that you in there?"
               The booming voice carried throughout the locker
room, undoubtedly down the hall to where the others were signing out, and, for
all he knew, probably out to the street above.
               So much for the relaxing shower .
               "NoWienee? Get your ass out here and clean
up this mess. Whaddya think you're doing? Jesus, what's that smell?"
               He quickly turned off the spigot, pulled the
plastic curtain back and grabbed the towel hanging just outside. Not bothering
to dry off, he just wrapped the towel around his