The Wrench Assistant

Tangled Mess

If I had really wanted to, I could have started cutting the oxidation chamber by the second day my boss was in there. If I had really wanted to. But by then Humphrey had already given me the codes to the safe.

My argument for the codes brooked no discussion. "How can I buy food for two on the salary you haven't paid me, plus rubber bags for your unpleasant bathroom needs? And if you think I'm getting only one sack and cleaning it after your every use, you are delusional."

After quite a bit of whining, wheedling, negotiating, threatening and finally out and out crying, he broke down and gave me the codes. I've never eaten so well in my life, not to mention how much I love my brand-spanking new, mind-boggling expensive goggles.

My bodice bunches painfully under my spine and I change positions. Its previous owner had a generous shape which means it's a bit large for me, but she did not need it where she was going and I did.

Now, where was I? This steel coil is paired with this reverse pull copper wire and I can unhook them from the twelve bolt, vertical energy acceleraugmentor box hidden underneath the pistons....When I am almost through disconnecting, labeling, untangling and mapping the wires, Humphrey starts sobbing.

"He's going to kill me," he blubbers.

"Probably," I reply. 'He' in this case being Slick-Handed Alfred. "Unless the police cart you off first. You shouldn't have accepted the advance payment. You'll never be able to deliver now. Try to negotiate a replacement."

"And Widow Bowdey will hate me forever."

"Widow Bowdey is not aware of your existence."

"Yes, she is. I told her I would give her the purifier as a token of my deep affection and she accepted."

I stop working. "You did what?"

He sniffs, making the beast snort metallically. "I gave her the purifier. I wrote her a letter after she asked about it, saying she could have it the same morning before Alfred came to the shop with the money. How could I say no to him? He'll kill me."

"I don't blame him. How did she know about the alloy purifier?" I ask. "Come to think of it, how did Alfred know? Wait. You got drunk at The Salty Seaman's Tavern and told the whole world about it, didn't you?"

More sobs. I start working again, impatient to free him, so I can fry his brains with a fully charged sparker baton. In a couple of hours, I will be out on the street again.

The iron drain cover rattles and slides with a screech across the floor. The streets might be safe for citizens, but the sewers are crawling with mafia. Johnny-Boy appears from the small hole, angry. "You've got four uniforms watching this place!"

"I know." I keep working. As though I need this additional distraction.

"I'm here for the alloy purifier. My father wants it now, and it had better be ready."

"It's not exactly ready, no."

"Well, I'm taking it anyway."

"You just said there are uniforms watching the house," I sigh.

"What of it?"

"How do you plan on getting the machine out?"

"We can take it out in pieces through the tunnels," he says, eyeing the 9 by 6 foot, monstrous metal contraption.

And this man's father is the cleverest criminal mastermind Graftin Port City has ever seen?

"Unfortunately," I say, "it would take me approximately thirty-six hours to cut it up with the torch cutter and no guarantee that I could ever get it back together."

"How many days is that?"

"Too many. The police are confiscating the workshop in about two hours," I say. I shovel some more coal in the furnace and go to the desk to set the torch cutter to warm up, thinking about Humphrey and his obsession with the richissime old widow. "Johnny-Boy, I need you to deliver a letter for me to the Widow Bowdey."

"What do you think, I run messages all day?"

This is, in truth, the only employment his father trusts him with. "If we don't do something, the police will take the entire workshop. Then they will arrest Humphrey and your father will be deprived definitively of having an alloy purifier."

"Oh."

I scribble a few lines begging the widow to come, adding several sweet nothings about her glowing beauty and the wild stampeding of my (Humphrey's) heart. Would the words 'eternal love-slave, bound to her bed by the chains of passion' be excessive? Probably. Forging Humphrey's signature, I thrust the letter in an envelope and hand it to Johnny-Boy. "Make sure it gets to her or your father will be very unhappy."

He insults my mother, my grandmother and my unborn children, but I've learned to take these things in stride. I tell him Godspeed as he makes for the drain hole without further ado. He tries to intimidate me with his glare as he disappears, pulling the iron cover in place with an ominous clang,.

I have other business to worry about. The torch cutter is hot.

"Humphrey, this might get uncomfortable," I say.

"Why?"

"I have to cut through the oxidation chamber."

"Just don't cut the apex!" he yells.

"The what?" I ask, firing up the torch. I love this tool.

"The apex focalizer line!"

"Which one is that?" I ask. He thinks I'm an idiot.

He tugs on it from the inside.

"Oh, all right. I'll set the candle next to it."

"No, no! No candles! Use the electric lights, you have my permission!"

"Got it! Now, you'll want to move to the top of the chamber while I do this." I set the cutter flame to the copper. Within seconds a coin size circle of metal is glowing and the cutter pierces the side.

Humphrey screams. The belly shakes as he thrashes to escape. The screams continue, but they are more of the trapped, panicking animal sort than the tortured, burning man sort, so I keep cutting. I cut and he screams for nearly two hours.

By the end, I am able to extract a whimpering, sweat-soaked, fainting Humphrey. I hold him in my arms, rocking him gently while he mumbles and cries and tries to unkink his legs and back from their curled fetal position.

"Can you walk? You'll have to go through the tunnels," I say as the euphoria of my success fades and I realize how badly he stinks.

"Hahmumaduh," he slurs.

"Come on, into the hole," I say, going over to lift the drain cover.

"No, not the darkness," Humphrey begs.

It doesn't budge. I try a crowbar. "This won't move. Did Johnny-Boy lock this from the inside?" Of all the dirty, low-life, short-sighted scummy tricks. "He locked us in here!"

"Mah, mah, mah..."

The bell rings. "The police! They're here! They're here. Get up the stairs to your room!"

Humphrey leans over and collapses on the floor, twitching. The bell rings - longer this time. There is nothing else for me to do.

I rip off my bodice.

******Hope you are enjoying the story so far! Thanks for reading!*******************