The Hammered Heart

Today’s prompt at The Daily Post is the word vanish.

§§

So, a hammer walks into The Nutz & Boltz Tavern after a tough day on the job site.

The bartender leans over the bar. “What’ll it be, Hambo?”

“Gimme a Rusty Nail, Mack,” he replied. “And keep ’em comin’!”

“Rough day, huh? You look beat.” Mack observed as he built Ham’s drink.

Ham tried to shrug his steel shoulders. “Naaah. I’ll be alright after I pound a few of these down.”

Mack nodded. “That’s what you do best, buddy!”

The bartender’s sharp wit was never wasted on Hambo, and the two shared a hardy laugh.

Pretty soon, a nail saunters in to the same tavern. Seeing Hambo in her regular barstool, she opts for a seat at the other end of the bar. The little nail didn’t want any trouble.

“Be right back, Hambo.”

Mack swaggered toward his new patron.  “Well, hello, Naylene…”

“Uh, h-h-hi, Mack.” Naylene stammered.  His penetrating gaze and sleek, cunning style made her want to bolt.

“What can I do for you?”

His piercing  voice seemed to caress  the air. Naylene felt her shaft grow weak and the metallic tingle in her shank rendered her speechless. Her head suddenly felt flatter than usual, and she bowed it.

“How ’bout Harvey Wallbanger?”

“N-n-no. M-make it a screwdriver.” Naylene mumbled, glancing in Hambo’s direction. “I don’t wanna get hammered.”

“Understood.” Mack nodded and began to turn away, but switched back to Naylene. “Forgive my brashness, but I gotta tell ya. Naylene, your gripper marks are absolutely exquisite.”

Naylene lifted her flat head. OMG! Does this mean he likes me? Do I dare to hope?

Mack’s dangerous gash of a smile softened as Naylene beamed at him. Maybe she’s not so tacky after all. In fact, I think she’s…totally galvanized!

It was a magic moment for Mack and Naylene—a moment just begging for a monkey wrench.

Hambo became bored as hammers are wont to do when they aren’t smashing things. He was also more than a little jealous over the attention being paid to a common flathead.  To amuse himself, Hambo pummeled the buttons on the jukebox until Simon & Garfunkel’s El Condor Pasa echoed through the tavern.

To be continued…

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