Everything Is Ethan’s Fault

“Everything Is Ethan’s Fault”

By the Fed-Up Movers Union (Joe, Dillon & the Crew)

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We were doin’ just fine on a Saturday load,

Till Ethan backed the truck into some lady’s abode.

He said, “My bad, I thought that was the street,”

Now we’re patchin’ drywall and explainin’ receipts.

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He left the dolly at the last damn house,

Then blamed the GPS and the neighbor’s spouse.

He stacked a TV on a box marked “glass,”

Now there’s shards on the floor and a ticked-off lass.

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It’s Ethan’s fault, every move, every day,

If somethin’ breaks, he’s five feet away.

You can bet your boots and your truck stop salt—

If it’s gone wrong, it’s Ethan’s fault.

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He says, “I thought it was bubble-wrapped tight,”

But that mirror looked like it lost a fight.

Dropped a couch ‘cause he tripped on air,

Then laughed like he just don’t care.

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He scheduled two jobs at the same damn time,

Then showed up late, sayin’, “Ain’t that fine?”

We love the guy, but Lord be near—

Every day he costs us another career.

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It’s Ethan’s fault, like rain on a move,

Like a wheel fallin’ off when you’re hittin’ a groove.

He means real well, but he breaks by default—

Yeah, God made Ethan…

then added fault.

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Hey Ethan… you bring the straps?

Ethan: “Oh crap.”

Yup. That’s our boy.