Is this beginning easy and enjoyable to read? Thanks!

(post by Email Removed)

You know what a fine spring day feels like in a fine small town with fine, down-to-earth people? The best way to feel it is when you are young and preferably, several years out of school.
Jacob, the veteran's son, was out to get nails and some other stuff men of practice around the house find useful. Everyone knew who Jacob was. There was no one else named Jacob in the small town, but people still always said "Jacob, the veteran's son". They did that because they were glad the small town had not only produced a veteran, but also a veteran's son, a male heir - pretty, well-mannered and well-built. Those were all things that small town folks had the right to be proud of.

Jacob was out in his customary casual fashion. Small town "casual" means old jeans (one pocket missing from behind) with indistinct color, old trainers with nail-holes here and there, some sort of un-ironed T-shirt with oil stains and a hat advertising the local sport team. The ladies always criticized approvingly.

"Oh, there's Jacob in his old jeans again. That boy should really get some new clothes", Mrs. Benth would say.
"I wonder if I'd see him in a clean T-shirt before I die" - Mrs. Colson would add. She was always wondering whether she'd be able to do this or that before she died.
"What a fine boy that Jacob is. He is so hard-working and kind. And he never complains about the money, either. What a fine boy"

And all ladies would nod their heads in agreement. They all loved Jacob for his cheesy smile and because it is hard to be without a woman in the house, everyone knows that. And his father, the veteran! He was no pie to be around, uh-um. He was partially crippled and very cranky and wanted no pity on himself, as all veterans are. Jacob's father, the veteran, would find pity in all neighborly deeds.

"Jacob, I'm going to the city this weekend. Ask your father if he needs anything" - Mr. Benth would say, leaning out the window of his rusty red pickup, the engine booming as loud as possible. And Jacob's father would give Mr. Benth a discouraging look through the second-floor window, and Mr. Benth would discuss the encounter with his wife during dinner.

"Jacob, I've baked some home-made lard bread, why don't you take a loaf home to your dad" - Mrs. Colson would say. She would meet Jacob next day, returning the loaf of bread with a crooked smile. "Sorry, Mrs. Colson. Turns out we were stacked to ceiling".

And Jacob's father, the veteran, would talk:
"What are they thinking, those morons? Trying to buy out their guilt? Well, old Benth and old Coldon never volunteered for the war, did they? And they are looking down on me cause I'm crippled? Hah! Jacob, you go there and tell them, I don't need nobody's favours and nobody's pity. And tell them they should be in prison for not volunteering and if they had, maybe I wouldn't be crippled. You tell them you can't guilt out with a loaf of bread. Tell them I'm ashamed of them. F***ers. God bless America, Jacob. Pray to God for America"

This kind of talk was no fun to hear over and over. But at least it was better than him screaming in pain, cursing, and breaking furniture. Jacob would get embarrassed watching this and would get out of the house unnoticed. He was very troubled by his father's outbursts because he thought pain was not to be regarded by men, especially proud war veterans. Let alone heroes.

Jacob would get angry with his father in times like these. He would wish upon beating Senior to death, putting an end to his half-life and humiliation. It would be a mercy kill. Of course, Jacob had never raised a hand on his father. That's the kind of thing negroes and Carl the butcher would do, but it is not business for a young man in his right mind. Whenever Senior started yelling at his boy to get him whiskey or vodka, Jacob had to leave the house.

As any small-town folk would tell you, roaming the streets in a random fashion, all-blue and looking at you toes, is just the kind of thing that would raise suspicion. Folks must stay busy. A man with too much free time starts thinking about inappropriate stuff, and with only one sheriff in the county, that's trouble.

So when Jacob had to leave the house, he would head straight to the store to buy nails.
Now, one might think that Jacob, being as he is - small town boy and all that - isn't very bright. Who needs that many nails for one house? Why does he only buy a handful at a time instead of a whole box? And how long will it take him to finally finish whatever he's doing with those nails?
Some might take Jacob's side and argue in his defense. They don't have money, you know. He helps Mr. Denoit (his grandpa was from Belgium) for about five bucks an hour, now that's not much. Maybe the boy is buying a few nails at a time, so what, at least he's not on credit. His father can't work because of his arm, poor guy, so no money there. And we all know about his mom, don't we.

But in fact Jacob's trips to the store had nothing to do with nails. He didn't need none, because he had all sorts of hammers and nails and wrenches and so on in the garage.

Whenever Jacob had to leave the house, he needed some excuse for the people in town. Someone would always wave and say "Hey Jay, where you off to?". He tried "I need to get some bread" several times, but the ladies would always offer to send his dad some home-made lard bread. For some reason they just loved to talk to him and could do it for hours if he'd let him.

Then he tried "I need to look for a new hammer", but then the gents would stop him and say "Nonsense, I have a brand new hammer at home, I'll lend it to you. I owe your father, remember?" And of course then Jacob would get dragged in the car, driven to the house, wait for the man to search through boxes and more boxes and even more boxes. Finally they would hand Jacob the hammer with the happiest grin ever.

And finally Jacob came up with the nails excuse. Women stayed out of it because, well, women don't really know much about stuff that can't feed, clothe or clean a child. And men stayed out of it because, well, men know that when you need nails, you need nails. And you're in a hurry.
So Jacob was out that day, going to the store to get about five cents worth of nails.

Grandpa Tim, the store's owner, gave him the nails for free this time. He thought Jacob seemed a bit tense today and had some blood on his knuckles. Besides, he owed his dad a favor.