My Jaw was Starting to Cramp

​My jaw was starting to cramp.

You’re supposed to keep it loose, so they don’t break it.

I’d had a broken jaw and was not anxious to go through that again.

Where were they?

One of the Hartford guys have trouble with their costume?

Like most day players, they were always overstating their skill sets and understating their vital statistics.

There was that one job where we needed some divers—scuba, you know—and the Hartford guy  said he had just the people.  

There were six of them.  For some reason—I don’t remember why—they all had to have matching wetsuits.  

Fine. 

No problem.

We got the gear, got the suits to the job and then those fucking guys show up.

Like High School football coaches, the lot of them.

You know like sometimes you see a group of guys on motorbikes out for a weekend ride, and you can just tell they’ve spent all week polishing the chrome and Friday conditioning their leathers?

They looked like that.

We had to send them home.  No way would they fit the suits.

Jim had to improvise.

Jim hates to improvise.

They could have been the best divers in the world, but, in our scenario, they were going to stick out like beachballs in a funeral home.

After that, we never built a move around them.  They were the parsley.

If I got my jaw broken off some parsley, I was going to be pissed.

He was taking another water break.

Apparently, it’s thirsty work beating on me.

I was reaching my limit.

Time to get ready.

I can’t tell you how grateful I was that we were close to the same size.