Peter Crispin Author

  Buying the Farm ‘I’d like one copper axe, please.’ ‘A… what?’ Nervous sweat beaded down Henry’s face as he glanced around the hardware store, pushing his round glasses back up his nose. ‘A copper… axe?’ The young man behind the counter looked confused. He scratched a chubby finger through his scruffy brown beard. ‘Is that like a brand or something? I’m new so I’m still kinda…’ ‘Everything ok over here?’ This guy looked like he knew what he was doing, his scarred arms seemed like they’d used every tool in the shop, or he’d been in a particularly interesting knife fight… as did the scar above his left eye. ‘This guy’s looking for a…’ ‘A copper axe!’ ‘Kid I’ve been a woodworker for longer than you’ve been alive, and I guarantee you I ain’t never even SEEN a goddamn copper axe. What the hell would you want something like that for?’ ‘Well I uh…’ he looked away, suddenly abashed. ‘I bought a farm,’ he whispered.’ ‘Why the hell would you do that?’ ‘Well see, I used to be a progr

  The Dishwasher Most of my working life in Ontario was spent in commercial kitchens, and in most of those kitchens, I was washing dishes. More than any other job I ever worked for somebody else, I was the best. I loved washing dishes, particularly the parts involving free food, and being surrounded by extroverts, who wouldn’t have jobs if they weren’t hard workers. I would have a hard time choosing my favorite dishwashing job, because I had so much fun and was challenged in different ways by several. My two favorites however, were definitely East Side, Mario‘s in Waterloo, and milestones in London, Ontario. Everyone at East side Mario‘s was really freaking nice. Many people were attending university since it’s right next to the University of Waterloo. Lots of people in the kitchen had great taste in music, and it seemed to me like all I had to do, was take the dishes that were dirty, spray them with the thingy, and put them in the machine. Seems simple, right? Apparently not, because