Dawn broke with a rooster’s crow and a crackle over the crew radio. “Alright, Sleepyheads! Coffee’s brewed, engines are humming, time to tame some metal beasts!” That was Big Red, foreman extraordinaire and undisputed coffee baron. With a groan and a stretch, Maggie pulled herself out of the cramped bunk in the back of their pick-up, the faint scent of pine needles mixing with the aroma of brewing fuel. Another Monday, another mobile home waiting to find its forever spot.
Today’s conquest was a double-wide, a two-story behemoth nicknamed “The Majestic” by Big Red (despite its peeling paint and questionable porch railings). The crew – Maggie, Jorge, and the ever-silent but nimble Muscles – arrived on-site to find a yawning crater where a foundation should have been. “Another DIY enthusiast, eh?” Jorge chuckled, shaking his head at the uneven slopes and misplaced concrete blocks. But Jorge, the resident magician of levels and plumb lines, could work miracles with a shovel and a spirit level.
Hours of sweat, muttered curses, and expertly orchestrated teamwork later, The Majestic began to rise. Inch by agonizing inch, guided by laser levels and hand signals, the house crawled onto its concrete throne. Maggie, perched precariously on the roof like a skyfaring architect, wrestled with loose shingles and leaky pipes, earning appreciative whistles from a group of curious kids peering over the fence. Jorge, a wiry whirlwind of energy, darted everywhere, his tool belt a clanking symphony of hammers and wrenches. Muscles, silent as a shadow, seemed to be in three places at once, his hands working with the grace of a dancer as he secured beams and steadied supports.
By lunchtime, the sun was high and stomachs were rumbling. The crew huddled under the shade of a nearby oak, devouring greasy sandwiches and swapping stories like seasoned warriors. Maggie recounted her morning battle with a particularly stubborn water valve, earning Jorge’s guffaw and a pat on the shoulder. Muscles, as usual, spoke through his eyes, a gentle smile crinkling the corners as he listened.
The afternoon was a blur of connections, inspections, and last-minute tweaks. As dusk painted the sky in fiery hues, The Majestic stood proud, a beacon of resilience and hope in the heart of the growing neighborhood. The crew, wiped but content, watched a young family wander up the newly built steps, eyes wide with wonder. A small hand waved shyly at them, and Maggie swore she could see a future Christmas tree already shimmering in the doorway.
With a final wave, the crew piled back into their truck, the rumble of the engine a lullaby of another job well done. As they drove away, Maggie realized it wasn’t just houses they built; they built dreams, one roof at a time. And for a fleeting moment, under the starry Texas sky, the weariness felt insignificant, replaced by the quiet satisfaction of leaving a tiny piece of magic in their wake.
We hope you enjoyed this bit of fiction, visit again to hear more entertaining tails
The Boss