Mary was "fed up" with Bob and he had only just arrived. He walked in as if he was some kind of superhero. But instead of an "S" on his chest he had "Bob" embroidered on his work shirt.
"Where's the culprit?" he demanded.
"In the fireplace" she responded begrudgingly. What was she thinking when she bought this 100 year old money pit of a house? Now, hardly a month into ownership she had an unwelcome housemate. While cleaning the glass doors of the fireplace – a fireplace she dearly loved and hadn't even used yet – she discovered a squirrel settling in for a stay. He wasn't going to exit the same way he entered so she called animal control. And they sent her super Bob.
Bob dropped his bundle on the living room floor and began to gear up for his task. Mary looked on as he donned hip waders, heavy duty gloves and a mask. Was he hunting squirrel or playing goalie for the Blackhawks?
"Go get yourself a broom" he directed. Probably the only way he recognizes a woman is if she's holding a broom, she thought. While she fetched the broom Bob moved her dining table and chair away from the sliding glass doors to the left of the fireplace. He moved the couch and chair off to the right barricading the front door. He then positioned Mary in front of the staircase with the broom."Now," he said opening the sliding glass door, "when I open the fireplace doors with this pole the critter should make for the nearest, most obvious exit – right through these doors. If he comes your way, just wave the broom to redirect him."
"Whoa!" Mary suddenly decided compliance was overrated. "You're standing there dressed like a Star Wars storm trooper with a ten foot pole and all you're going to do is open the doors? Where's my hip waders, my gloves, my squirrel gear?"
Bob smiled indulgently. "Miss, I'm a professional. I know what I'm doing."
Well, she thought. Once I deal with the squirrel I'm going to use what's left of this broom to beat the snot out of Bob.
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