The Builders



It was incessant. It was driving Rachel insane. It had woken her up before eight that morning. After another bad night with the baby it was all she needed. That noise was enough to drive anyone crazy. She just wanted it to stop. Not only had it woken her but it had woken the baby as well. And she was already cranky and over-excitable from teething. To top it all off she had been a nightmare to get to sleep. Now it was starting all over again.

Rachel had already tried complaining to the building management but these works were too important for a little thing like a crying baby to interfere with the property values of a few rich schmucks. But this was too much. Noise like that was considered torture by the United Nations and prohibited from use against prisoners of war. But single mothers and six month old babies were fair game? All right so she realized that she was one of less than a handful of people that was home during the day. She had tolerated weeks of hammering and drilling, but that was intermittent. Whatever they were doing now was non-stop. And it was too much.

Without thought that she wore only a thin night shirt, Rachel raged out into the hall, looking for the first workman she could find to accost. She did not have far to look of course. She opened her mouth and weeks of frustration flowed out. She started -screaming and yelling. To be fair, she had to just to be heard. But she let them have it until the noise stopped and an older man came over. Rachel was shaking, visibly trembling as she tried to explain to the man. Of course, wouldn't you know, he barely spoke any English. It was a builder's nightmare come to life.

After talking to the man, or trying to anyway, for several minutes, Rachel thought perhaps she had made her point. She turned to go back to her apartment, content that at least she had said her peace. It might have ended there too if she had not heard the laugh from behind her and turned to see the men snickering together, making crude motions with their hips. She did not need to understand their language to know what was being said. They spoke the universal language of 'assholes.' She turned and strode back over to them like an avenging Valkyrie hand maiden.

Hands planted firmly on her hips she stared down the older man that she had first spoken with, the one who at least spoke a bit of English. "Trust me, asshole, there is not a one of you man enough to give me what I need. So here is a little challenge for you, shithead. Choose your best and send him around after work. If he fucks me into submission then you can continue this shit. If I fuck him into submission then you find a quieter way of getting this job done...no matter how much it costs you."

The man stared at her for a long moment. His face was clearly readable. He could not believe that his limited English had heard her right. "Oh yeah, you heard me right." She used her hips in a pump and grind to mimic the men's earlier insults, "A fucking contest. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"We get in trouble. Big trouble," he muttered.

"No, you will get in big trouble if I go to your bosses now. I will call the police about the noise, tell them about your insults and call the company to complain. Another crew will probably show up tomorrow making just as much noise so that won't do me any good. But you would all be out of jobs. Is that what you want? Or do you want a fighting chance of keeping me quiet? I promise even if I do lose, which I won't, I will not tell anyone. Do we have a deal?" Rachel held out her hand.

The man stared at her for another long moment. He looked from man to man of his crew. Then he slowly nodded his greying head, "Deal."

"See you or one of you at five then," she said as she turned to go back into her apartment.

She had plans to make and toys to get out. Lots of them. Toys that she had not used in over a year. But it felt good. Felt really good. Mistress Rage was back. She almost pitied the poor schmuck that got selected for the job. She wondered if the foreman would think to take the spoils for himself? How long had it been since that jerk had a really good one? Probably a long time from the sour look on his face. Or maybe the old man would realize that at his age, he might not have the stamina to win a contest like this.

Rachel closed the door and leaned back against it with a broad smile. Win or loose, it felt good. Good to be back to her old self and she looked forward to taking those bragging assholes down a few pegs. A loud wail came from the nursery just as that infernal racket started again. She sighed and cursed, but first she had to get through this day.