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  • Writer's pictureThe Fake Guru

The Builders

Updated: Nov 25, 2021

A LONG, STEEL PIPE smashes against my head with a metallic CLANG!

I’m awake!!

What day is it?

What year is it?

I look at my alarm clock. The neon-orange glow tells me it’s 6.32am. It’s Saturday.

I roll over and bury my head in the pillow, wishing I could return to the Land of Dreams. Next to me, she remains in deep slumbers, unperturbed by the commotion outside.

Why are they here on a Saturday? I don’t understand. They weren’t here yesterday afternoon... I bet they finished early to watch the match. Will they be here tomorrow too? No… they wouldn’t. Would they?

I fall back into a doze. The outdoors has gone silent. Nothing to be heard but the song of birds. Sweet, sweet morning bliss. As the comforts my dreams return to me, I wonder: Do they just come here in the morning, and deliberately clang at the pipes to wake up the neighborhood?

Maybe they do it from some misplaced sense of righteousness – like an evil rooster with a bruised ego, caught in an infinite loop of waking up the farm.

Maybe they do it because their jobs require them to be up so early, and they want the world to suffer with them? It must be. Why, otherwise, always the silence after the initial clang?

I swear, they come here, clang once to wake up the whole neighborhood, and then, they sit - coffee and smokes in hand, complimenting one another on a good morning’s clanging.

“Oh, you clanged real good today mate!” –

“Oh, thanks mate, you didn’t clang too badly yourself!”




The clock says it’s 7.08am. Get up, bitch!



I’m up!

I get out of bed, put on the kettle, brush my teeth and pee, irritated. I sip my coffee in my boxers and eye on the builders angrily from the kitchen window, my brow visibly furrowed.

One of them – most likely summoned to me by my angry gaze – looks up and notices me.

He smiles and waves happily.

I give him the finger and walk away.

Good morning to you too, motherfucker.


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