Every Friday night, my coworkers and I gather out behind one of the large sheds we work in. Our mission: kick off the weekend in style. We do this rain or shine, summer or winter. If it's cold, we light a fire in a 55 gallon drum and gather round. If it's hot, we pull a few of the fans out of the shed. One thing is a constant: the beer. Guinness is a favorite, of course, but Newcastle and Fuller's are popular as well. The conversation is always lively, especially as the evening wears on. Last Friday was no exception.
"Man, I'm beat," said Henry, one of the elders in our little group, "lots o' hauling today. I could go right back into the shed and sleep 'till Monday."
"Come on, man," cried Toby, "a little hard work never did anyone any harm."
"And how would you know anything about hard work?" said Tom. Everyone laughed, even Toby.
Donald, whose Scottish blood was obvious to anyone who had the misfortune to try and understand him speak, looked around for his brother. "Dougie, where have ye gotten off ta? I gotta go soon, and I'd hate to ha' ta' leave ye behind."
Henry snorted. "I saw Doug over in the office a while back. He's trying to pick up on the boss' daughter again."
Monty (we all call him Duck; nobody remembers why any more...) laughed. "I've been trying to get her to go out with me for years! He won't get anywhere with her."
"You're not the only one who been trying," sighed James, "but I don't know...he can be quite charming when he wants to. 'Call me Douglas' he'll say in his sweetest voice, and the lasses swoon."
"Hey Eddie!" cried Tom, "you still need help moving the pool table tomorrow?"
"Thanks, buddie," answered Eddie. "That'd be really useful. Lemme refill your glass."
Eddie pulled a draught of Guinness and turned to hand it to Tom. Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock. "Will you look at that..." he muttered in awe.
Doug was walking past them, with the daughter (Catherine) on his arm. "I don't need a ride tonight, Donnie-boy! Cathy and I are going to have some dinner." he called out. Moments later, the new couple hopped into her car and drove off.
"Glory be," said Henry slowly. "Two years she's been working here, and she has to pick that lousy Scotsman."
"Eh, I'm off, mateys." said Tom. "Early day tomorrow, right Eddie?" Eddie didn't answer; he was still staring enviously at the cloud of dust that marked Catherine and Doug's progress towards town.
"I'm with you," said Percy. "See y'all on Monday."
"A Scotsman..." muttered Henry. "A bloody Scotsman. What is the world coming to?"
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