Fire-Worked Up

It was a strange day. It was the Fourth of July, a day when people ferment, foam at the mouth and talk to strangers.

The first stranger to chat me up insisted my bike was too heavy for me to carry. But he was racing by in a machine on four wheels and somehow unable to lend a hand. The second stranger, because I was sitting bare-chested next to a lake, tapped me on my shoulder,

`Yo Bruce Banner!` {Hulk's alter ego}

The third stranger was a Staffordshire Bull Terrier and nearly put its owner in the lake in its desire to sniff my journal. The Bull languished and looked back as the man manhandled him away.

The fourth stranger didn't come till I'd nearly carried home a 6' long dresser weighing about 120 lbs. I was unscrewing a flappy hinged door to throw that away when I heard,

`You're almost there! Keep screwing! You got it!`

I look up. `This is a good day to talk to strangers. People must be early drunk.`

He runs up at this point, tall and ruddy with blonde buzzed hair. `Can I help with the screws?`
`Sure,` handing him a screwdriver. `Any good at carrying heavy dressers? You're not too tipsy yet, right?`

`Naah.` He screws one of the screws back in.

`I'm actually trying to unscrew the whole door.`

`Oh! You should have told me!`

_You mean 3 seconds ago?_ But I didn't say anything and he was unable to get the screws out since the screwdriver was too short.

`Can I help you carry it?`

Once inside, we carry the thing up eight flights of stairs. At this stage, he seems to twig he's a stranger in a strange house, but keeps up the farmboy politeness as I lead him back out.

`When I saw you there, I knew I had to help you!`

Partly thanks to a boozy stranger, Bruce Banner didn't have to get all Hulk on that dresser today (see attached photo).