Bjorn started here about a month ago, and from the start, I could tell he just wasn’t one of us. Everyday when the lunch whistle blew, me and the guys’d go to the corner, talk about the missus', have a couple brews, heck, sometimes more than a couple.
Bjorn? ...Bjorn was different. Strange. An odd fuckin’ bird. He’d come into work all dressed up, somekinda thick gunk in his hair, always talking in that accent about something nobody could understand. One time he nearly dropped a girder on my head, not that I hold a grudge or nothing, but you get the idea. Frankly, we were all sick of it. So it’s a good thing he hasn’t come in these past few days.
It’s a damn good thing.
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