When I returned from lunch I saw another friend circling the safe, studying it intently. He had not been a party to the earlier fiasco.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m going to move the safe,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Do you want to help?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve already seen this movie.” I said with seasoned experience and proceeded to tell him about the seven guys and the tablecloth. I held up my bleeding thumbnail as Exhibit A.
“You and I can move this bugger,” he said, dismissing my expertise with a flick of his hand. So hideous was this safe and its presence so discordant to our dream studio that I forgot the morning’s debacle and accepted his invitation.