Borehole

Here’s one for my buddies at Halliburton

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed into the phone. I stared across the cardtable of the drilling shack at him. My hands were still shaking.

“Look, I can’t, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. We tried. Yeah. We did. And the only time we were able to drill through the layer, we topped the engine out. Yeah, he’s fixing it now.”

As he’s talking with the project super, I notice a splotch of the black stuff on my coverall. I lunge across the table and snatch a stack of paper towels and ferociously try to get the shit off me.

“Look, we did produce from that zone. It wasn’t what the geologist said would be down there. It’s not hydrocarbon. No, wait. Hey! Listen! Alright, it’s not oil, okay? I have some of it in a jar, we’re going to send it in to you. But we can’t run pipe right now. All my people are too freaked out. Okay. Alright. Bye.” He hung up the phone.

It was quiet in the drill shack. The bright light pouring in from the west texas sun didn’t improve my spirits.

I looked at my boss. “You didn’t tell him that it’s blood.”

 

 

About the Photo

Ocean Star Drilling Rig

Creative Commons License

by Ed Schipul

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Image Credit: Nicolas Vigier