Thomas Jones was enjoying his second cup of coffee that morning when the door to the

work cabin was suddenly flung open and a fat, floored man by the name of Pendleton marched

into the room.

"'What, no, the blue blazes has gone on here,' he said, casting a baleful eye at Thomas

and the rest of his crew.

We're nearly a week over scheduled.

You bunch of happy assholes are sitting on your butt's drink and coffee.'

"'Now wait a damn minute,' Thomas said, climbing to his feet.

Thomas was a big man and loomed over Pendleton.

Still, he felt small at the look of the righteous anger on the other man's face.

"'Maybe we could talk about this outside,' he said, glancing around the room.

He was obvious the other man was going to tear a strip out of him, but he'd rather not

have it done in front of his crew.

Pendleton smirked.

"'Sure.

Let's talk,' he said, turning his back on him and strutting ericantly from the room.

"'Asshole,' someone muttered under their breath, but Thomas ignored them and followed

after the other man, closing the door gently behind him.

As soon as the door swung shut, he turned on him.

"'You want to tell me what the hell's going on here, Jones?

This demolition job was supposed to be finished last week.

Then I had a call from head office telling me to get my ass down to Cornwall.

...