A Safe Warm Place

It was the steepest roof I had ever been on, and my grip was precarious to say the least. I had to crab walk everywhere I went, dragging my ass along the roof to find traction when there was no other alternative. I’ve never worn a harness. My dad insists that fall protection is for “pussies.”Consequently, my ass was so full of pokes from stray nails that it looked like an evacuated pin cushion.

In general, the lifespan of any article of clothing I own is approximately three and a half roofs. After that my shoes become so ravaged they would make Forest Gump blush, my pants look like assless chaps, and my t-shirts look like they were used to clean the inside of a smoke house. The pair of pants I was wearing that day were three roofs old. I figured that since there was still a strip of cloth running along my ass crack and since I was wearing thick boxers that this was fine. I was even comfortable enough to stick my ass way out in the air to get my center of gravity right.

It was a breeze-less day in the summer of my junior year of high school, and I was roofing the house of a girl I had a crush on. Since I am a pitiful excuse for a human being, she had no idea I liked her and knew only that we were good friends and that I would do favors for her if she asked. I have an image to maintain, after all.

My father, having realized he had “forgotten” something, as he does every time we do a job where an old roof has to be torn off, had left me all by myself to get things started. Digging my toes into a board I had tacked down just above the gutter, I threw a flat blade shovel underneath the old roof and tore it away. My ass flexed with each heave. I heard giggles below me.

“Hey, Ashton! Morning!” I looked over my shoulder and waved. I may not be much of a human being emotionally, but I try to be polite. Ashton covered her mouth giggling. Usually, I had to tell a joke before I could work her up like that.

“I…” Ashton’s words were broken by fits of laughter. “I… came out here to… ask you… if you wanted some water.” Then her nostrils started to tremble. A friend of hers came from inside the house to stand next to Ashton, but a motion of Ashton’s hands stopped her. The friend came anyway, and then they were both laughing.

“What’s up guys?” I asked, confused. I had a reputation for quirkiness and hilarity, but I usually had to do something entertaining before people started laughing like this.

“We have to go inside!” Ashton said in a huff, and then pulled her friend back inside with her. I shook my head, still perplexed, and began to tear off more shingles.

A breeze picked up. My backside puckered against the cold. My eyebrows contracted in sudden understanding. Moving one hand hesitantly backward, I felt a thin strip of cloth that was the remainder of the back of my jeans. Then I felt the tear in my underwear that had widened without my knowledge. I did a mental rundown of my garments and my posture.

And that’s how the girl I had a crush on in high school saw my widely spread asshole elevated two stories above the ground.

Author’s Note:

Happy Fourth of July folks! If you’re not from America, I highly recommend finding a different reason to light something on fire.