In the mortuary garden, Gravedigger has been tasked with cutting logs of wood into smaller portions for the wood burner. He stands over a log with a hatchet in his hand.
“For every job, there’s a tool.
This one has a purpose, like many. It’s called a hatchet.”
Gravedigger slams the hatchet into the large wooden trunk he’s attempting to cut and nothing happens. It gets stuck.
“A hatchet is really good at cutting through things. If you were to take this down to the groves, you’d cut down branches, twigs and brush without any kind of a problem.
It’d slice through all that with ease. But the minute you come up against something a little sturdier, that’s when you have a problem.”
He pulls the hatchet out of the log, using his foot for leverage.
“I mean sure, it makes a deep cut. It’ll fuck you up. Make no bones about it, even a blunt rusty hatchet would do damage in the right hands on the right task.
But if you were to use it for the wrong task? Well, that’s a waste of fuckin’ time.”
Gravedigger tosses the hatchet away.
“The people you work for are likely to find out sooner rather than later just how much of a waste of time you are, aren’t they Hatchet? Because if there’s one thing anyone knows about Brother Blaze, it’s that you can be the clown to knock him down…
… But when he gets the fuck back up, you better be long fuckin’ gone. And he will get back up, Hatchet. If you don’t know that, you just don’t know Blaze.”
He shrugs.
“That’s when your bosses are gonna realize they hired the wrong tool for the wrong job. I don’t need you attacking Blaze to learn that. See, I already know it.
Because I’m the log, Hatchet. I’m the big sturdy log and you’re the wrong tool for the job. Sure, you might make me bleed. You might cut me up a little, but it’s no worse than I’ve done to myself, believe you me.
You might take a little flesh and spill a little blood, but you’re unable to chop me up. You can’t break me down. You’re not powerful enough to take me out, Hatchet.
And those inconsequential wounds you leave behind are nothing but proof of it.”
Gravedigger gets an axe and stands over the log, chopping it powerfully and quickly, breaking it into pieces.
“At Vendetta, come and chop me down if you think you can, Hatchet.
And I’ll dig you grave for when you fail, just like I know you’ve failed to take out Blaze.
After all, any grave but my own.”