"If you're not working on your shit don't bother me,"

"If you're not working on your shit don't bother me,"  he said, twisting the squeaky metal wings of the can opener. "Cuz I am not interested in much else in this world." I was standing barefoot in the cold kitchen wrapped in my bathrobe mesmerized by his enormous calloused hands.

 Roy loved kidney beans.  He'd place the can of beans between his denim clad thighs and eat them cold out of the can with a pink plastic ice cream spoon he kept in the glove compartment. He'd eat the beans while driving in the dark at 5 AM to the shop. Sometimes he'd carry a baby Barney the hippo spoon in his denim work shirt pocket. He was part cowboy and part Popeye driving his old 1970's Chevy.  And I guess I was his Olive Oyl.