Holes

Sue watched as the big trucks dug through her yard.  They were digging a hole, a big and deep one.  Sue sat on the bench by her mother’s flowers.  They were red and purple and blue.  She did not know their rel names, but she did know the ones she gave them.  Sue waved at the men by the truck, they smiled and waved back. One of the men by the truck, Bill Rife, always read the comics on his breaks. His favorite was Snoopy, so was Sue’s. She liked Mr. Rife.  Dad was standing by the opening of the hole, he was arguing with another worker.  Dad wanted to put a door on the hole, the kind with the foam on the doors.  Sue could not hear Dad, but she saw him mouth an ugly word.  Mom would have had him if she knew, but she was out back swinging a chicken for dinner.