2x4

By the time Ernest�s supervisor returned from lunch Ernest was in fog. He saw nothing that was not filtered through his rage. The crane across the construction site was nothing but a basic geometric shape lifting other shapes. The half finished building seemed fluid like it was made of putty and through his eyes it wavered in and out of a mirage like an asphalt highway in summer. His coworkers knew that he was fuming and the five of them sat on a pile of plywood away from Ernest eating their lunch, keeping the conversation on football but attention on Ernest. They could see Ernest with his head in his hands staring at a cold chicken breast that was supposed to be his lunch, his left leg bouncing up and down as if he was unconsciously keeping time to speedmetal album. They noticed he would mumble a few words now and then and when he looked up once and caught one his coworkers eyes the man felt like a magnet had sucked the soul out of his belly, through his eyes into Ernest�s eyes.
The supervisor was unaware of the situation. One of the men stood by the parking lot to warn him of Ernest�s mood when he came back from lunch but for some reason the supervisor did not park in his normal spot instead choosing to park on the other side of the site along the street. When Ernest heard the truck door slam he lifted his head like he had seen a ghost and stared straight ahead listening for the sound of footsteps which came from behind him and drew closer. The men sitting on the plywood had all eyes on the scene now: the supervisor walking along planks that had been laid down over the mud, squishing and compressing in the mud with each heavy step, his hard hat attached to a clip around his belt. The men were nervous that Ernest might do something drastic but each one felt paralyzed. They could not make their arm muscles move to alert the supervisor. They kept laboriously chewing their lunches like in their mouths were chunks of stale french bread and no wine to wash it down.
�Lunch is over. Back to work,� the supervisor said just as he passed Ernest. He turned to look at the figure in the corner of his eye and then continued on towards the men. Ernest stiffened straight for a moment, looked to the ground and with both hands grabbed a two by four half stuck in the mud. He stood and with long strides walked briskly towards the supervisor.
�Let�s get moving guys,� the supervisor said.
�Ron!� one of the coworkers said. Ron heard Ernest�s steps and just as he turned Ernest was already on the down swing with the two by four and struck with such force that the man�s head looked as if it had been torn out of his left shoulder socket. He fell flat into the mud and Ernest raised the wood and swung again aiming for his head but hitting him squarely in the back of his neck.
The workers jumped up and ran directly at Ernest absorbing a blow from another swing and tackled him down and his face was pushed in the mud by Aaron�s hand while Keefe had his knees in Ernest�s shoulders locking him down into the moist rocky earth.
Ron was out cold. A pool of blood formed in a footprint in the mud and his face looked puffy. The workers knew this was serious.