Hammer and Sickle

A loud thud echoed through the fog over the moors. For a kilometer around, deer stopped grazing to listen, rabbits ran for their burrows anticipating lightning and rain, and ravens replied with their own chorus of caws.

At the epicenter of the thud was an enthused Sledge, having kicked his front door open in excitement for the new day. Looked out across the moors, he thought to himself, "At this time of year, they're rally more marsh than moor… perfect timing to put up that fence in the front yard!"

He looked to his left, his trusty Caber was leaning against his house, just as he had left it. Picking it up, feeling the weight in his hands, the pendulum-like swing of it as he hoisted it over his shoulder was enough to give him a chub.

Awkwardly walking across his front yard to his partially built fence; he picked up another post and readied it to be driven. "1…2…3!" He thought as he absolutely obliterated the top of the fence post.

The sun dragged across the cloud-riddled sky as the fence posts were quickly planted. Sledge, seemingly driven by forces of unseen haggis, noticed how late in the day it had gotten. Wiping the sweat from the top of his gas mask; he looked at his watch.

"Thirteen-fifteen?!" He shouted, "Eym leit fahr denner!"

Stepping inside his small cabin, he withdrew some oats, sausage, and eggs from the refrigerator. By One-thirty, he had masterfully made a batch of oatcakes and scotch eggs. Proudly, he carried his mid-day meal with him outside to his front porch. It wasn't until he sat down that he noticed he was not alone.

Seeing a tall, muscular, camo-clad man sporting Spetznaz insignias and a helmet made of very thick steel standing in his front yard, Sledge sat in shock for a moment. Mustering his will, he arose from his seat, and with one hand holding his food and the other pointing in accusation, he shouted, "waht ahr yew duen en my swamp?!"

The Spetznaz man sarcastically inspected his immediate surroundings and said overly calmly, "it looks more like a marsh to me."

Sledge stood still and silent, until the Russian spoke again, "Seamus, I hear you're about to ship out for the army."

"Aye…" Sledge said with a weary glare.

"Which is why I assume you are fixing your house?"

"Aye, so she donnae fahl apart whal I'm aut."

"Well, I have just the thing for you." Tachanka exclaimed with enthusiasm.

Sledge maintained his weary glare until he spoke again, "I've brought you a jack hammer, a device capable of delivering at least a dozen hammer strikes in the same amount of time it would take you to swing once."

With one hand in a single motion, Tachanka reached behind his back, withdrew a jackhammer and held it out with his arm perfectly parallel to the ground.

Sledge took on a look of open hostility, "Whey'd yew bring thah here? Eym draivin feance pohsts, ya scunner! Ma Caber's dohn wael enough sa-fahr."

Tachanka's eyes narrowed behind his helmet, "I've brought this here as a demonstration. You'll find no need for that hammer in the army. In short, I didn't have much else to do with my jack hammer while I was in John O'Groats."

Sledge maintained eye contact through intense thought. He pondered on the nature of Tachanka's challenge, what his Caber meant to him, whether Tachanka was right or wrong, why he was in Scotland in the first place?

Eventually, all his musing combined, shocking him back into reality, "How abaut we see uhs a lil competition. Yer Claymore against mai Lochaber?"

Tachanka stuck the end of the jack hammer into the sod, "I don't really have time for that, my boat leaves for London in fifteen minutes."

Sledge felt overwhelming disappointment. Tachanka had come to his town, onto his property and insulted his family heirloom and the Clan Stewart. He couldn't just let Tachanka walk away.

Taking a step forward, he felt the same bulge in his pants from that morning, "Have I had a chub all day?" He thought.

It was then that he realized, it had been there since Tachanka showed up. The tall, armor clad Russian, the challenge, and even the thought of a dozen hammer strikes in three seconds. It all culminated in Sledge's now rock-hard stake-driver.

Getting his focus back, he looked across his yard to see a similar chub on Tachanka, "Couldn't agree more" Sledge remarked.

"I could always wait for the boat tomorrow" Tachanka probed.

Sledge picked up on his offer and walked calmly to his front door and gestured inside.

Tachanka steadily strode across the heath, "I like your philosophy, who needs a jackhammer when I can jackhammer your ass already?"