Sticks and Stories - 3. Dirty Work

Huddled around the truck bed, Barry and his coworkers poured from the cooler spout. Sipping the spiked lemonade, he leaned against the vehicle. Life was grand. He landed a job with a local contract company, quickly outshined many on the crews, and became a must-have for bigger projects.

He loved digging holes and always has. Ever since his mom bought him a toy Tonka dump truck for Christmas, Barry was hooked. Dirt, rocks, sand; everything was put in there. But not all went smoothly. His dad stuck a few action figures in the giant scoop, and that did not sit well with Barry at all. It wasn't a proper fit. There was no bevel, only space. It wasn't efficient at all.

No. Moving earthy nature was his passion.

If the Tonka truck was his favorite present, then being told at puberty he was going to be a mole shapeshifter… Well, that was the greatest gift of all.

As a human, he could shape and form from above, and as a mole, he could be with the earth. Creating winding tunnels beneath the grass, resting underground when he needed a peaceful moment, and simply playing with dirt whenever he felt like it. It wasn't about being dirty. The feeling between his fingers, human or mole, was relaxing. The crumbly sensation took all of his cares away.

Feeling a buzz from the lemonade, Barry sat on the tailgate and sighed happily. Being an underground line specialist among a shifter crew was great. They were a productive bunch, despite taking the stereotypical breaks people saw when passing by.

"Alright, Barry!" Rick, the supervisor, called out. "Think you can dig in a straight line?"

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Barry hummed and took off his glasses. "Don't I always?"

Lifting his shirt over his light belly fat, he heard both Paula and Zack whistle. "Oh," cooed Paula, "give that furry tum a scratchin', little cub!"

With blurry eyesight, the talpidae double-took trying to pinpoint which one of them was the ursus. “Sorry, Paula. Started talking with someone online to do that for me.”

“What?” The crew said collectively.

“Spill the beans, hon!” Paula exclaimed, stomping towards Barry.

Barry snickered and unfastened his belt. “It’s not anything serious, but I will be taking some vacation time for a road trip to Wisconsin. There’s a strong, silent type there that wants to have dinner.”

Paula huffed. “Sounds like a bear. You’re going to go just for what? A steak dinner?”

“Depends. He’s got big arms, and he looks nice in a suit. That, and he’s got a sexy-ass name.”

“Which is?”

Barry stuck out his tongue, dropped trou, and shifted. As he heard the bear grunt in disdain and the crew laugh from the truck, the man shrunk.

He loved the feeling of his transformation. Most of his bones didn’t crack or snap, but felt like a slider from a trombone. The world around him shrunk, and tiny furs spouted from his skin. His vision worsened as his head reshaped. With all four paws on the ground, he squeaked at Paula.

“Yeah, yeah.” She picked him up and carried him to the proper spot. “Dig here and go straight, right Rick?”

“Yep. Forty yards, dead ahead. Go about eighteen inches deep.”

Burrowing into the hard soil, Barry got to work. The task was simple enough. Halfway through, he stopped for a breather. When his claw struck stone, he worried. “That’s not good,” he thought. Going further below, he crawled along the side and discovered it was a buried, nearly vertical slab. Going topside, he squeaked again to get his coworkers’ attention.

Someone jogged over. “What’cha got?” Rick’s voice carried from across the field.

Squeaking again, he instructed the supervisor to carry him back to the truck. Once there, he shifted. “Problem. There’s a big slab of rock in the way. I can dig a different tunnel, or we can excavate.”

“How big?”

“It felt like a broken foundation, but there wasn’t anything in the land's history. It goes about ten feet from my tunnel.”

“Damn,” Rick cursed. “I’ll make a few calls, but that means we’re done for the day.”

The crew cheered and made plans to grab a drink. Barry headed home, showered, and drove to the Pubar. Taking their circular booth, they ordered two pitchers of beer between the five of them. The second the waitress turned her back, the workers hounded Barry for details.

He waved his hands in defense, “Hey, c’mon! We’ve just been talking for a few days.”

“Yeah,” Zack argued, pointing a finger, “but you going all the way to Wisconsin for food and a fuck?”

“It’ll be more than that,” Barry promised. “He wants to take me on a boat.”

Paula bounced in her seat, clearly excited. “A boat? I thought moles didn’t do water.”

Shrugging, he didn’t want to give away too much. “I haven’t been on a boat before, so I’ll find out. Besides, he’s got connections.”

“Oh, so you found a bear with a suit and honey pot?” Paula pulled in the smaller man and rubbed his shoulder. “Lucky you!”

Zack slumped, resting his elbows on the table. “And if everything turns out well with this guy?”

Barry had not considered the consequences. “We haven’t gotten that far yet. Other than you guys, I don’t have any reason to stay here, so I might move.”

Setting his beer down, Rick groaned. “Then we’ll have to start actually digging lines. Jokes aside, I’m happy for ya, kid.”

The night went on, and so did the questions. Barry deflected them the best he could, but he did let it slip he was going to Sheboygan. After splitting their tab, the crew parted ways. The moment he got home, Barry messaged his date, When’s a good week for you?

He got a response a minute later. Any time’s good for me, just not the last weekend in April. Our enforcer’s going to Gatlinburg with his mate, and I’ll have to pick up a few duties.

Sitting on the couch, Barry made plans to go in a month’s time. “Let’s hope they figure out how to get rid of that rock before then,” he mumbled to himself.