Corpus de Crossword Read Online Free Page B

be happy if the bum learned how to throw the ball. Four intercepts? Come on, where’s that come from? If it wasn’t for the Toe and his three-pointers, we would a been shut out fourteen-zip.” Like Big Otto, Stu was also an electrician. He was twenty-one years old, gangly as a string bean, and had lived in the environs of Taneysville all his life. His source of pride—as well as a good deal of needling from the denizens of Eddie’s Elbow Room—was a blond ponytail that fell halfway down his back. Technically, Stu was Big Otto’s assistant, but that was only when work was good; when it wasn’t Stu picked up what odd jobs he could—and slept in his truck when he couldn’t make rent. By referring to the Patriots’ placekicker as “the Toe,” rather than Quigley, he’d hoped the conversation would stay with football for a while longer. No such luck.
    â€œSpeaking of the Toe, i.e., Quigley,” Big Otto said in a tone designed to include only Stu Farmer and Gary Leach, “I understand old man Stark tromped up to the Quigley work site this afternoon and gave those scabs a piece of his mind.”
    They’re not exactly scabs, Stu considered observing, but instead opted for the less inflammatory: “I thought we were talking football here.”
    â€œGame’s over, Stu. Time to stop stewing.”
    â€œYuck, yuck.”
    â€œYou’re the one’s always yammering about his hairdo … ’Scuse me—‘hairstyle.’ Maybe we can spend the next few hours talking about your ponytail?”
    It was Gary who interrupted this familiar exchange. “I heard the same thing about Stark,” he grumbled while he polished off his beer. “Who woulda figured? But it’s gonna take more than one creaky old man to set those bozos straight.”
    â€œMaybe,” Gunston answered, “but don’t forget he was in construction for a long time. He knows what it’s like to lose a gig to out-of-town contractors.”
    â€œOut-of-town?” Gary demanded. “How about out-of-the-damn-country? That crew is all from Italy or Germany or someplace like that.”
    â€œThat, too … but the general contractor’s American. From up north somewhere. A Mainiac, or something … I tried to score the electrical on that addition after they get it up … All I got was a snooty, ‘I’ll keep you in mind’ …”
    â€œBum,” Stu and Gary groused in unison.
    â€œYou got that right, gents … But what I’m sayin’ is, Stark’s as steamed as we all are about this setup, and he can be a tough old dog. You guys are too young to remember him in the old days.”
    â€œHah, that’s a laugh,” Stu countered. “All he cares about is that little church—and the fact that they’re runnin’ back-hoes on Sundays and that he can’t hear himself sing the songs …”
    â€œHymns,” Big Otto said.
    â€œWhatever.”
    â€œAnother round?” Eddie asked as he removed the three empty Miller Lite bottles.
    â€œYeah, sure … This one’s on me.” Gary tossed a ten-dollar bill on the bar, and waited for Eddie to move off toward the other customers. “So, what are you sayin’, Otto? That Stark’s aimin’ to throw a monkey wrench—?”
    â€œI’m just telling you that there’s a lot of folks around here that wouldn’t be too heartbroken if those clowns at the Quigley place disappeared—and some locals took over their jobs.”
    â€œWhoa … whoa … whoa,” said Stu. “What do you mean by ‘disappeared’?”
    Gunston gazed at him; his bushy mustache quivered with droplets of beer. “What I’m sayin’ is this: If you and me and Gary here was to decide to do something that ‘persuaded’ the contractor up there that he should be hiring local folks … well, I