Short tales

By Jessie James

Sitting in my shop staring at all the machines. Not a sound. No movement. Everything is completely still. I just keep staring and staring at my machines. I’m trying to make all of these cast iron monsters magically come to life and start making all the things I need to make. If I squint my eyes really tight? My vision is like one of those telepathic moments in the movies where the disturbed kid alone in her room makes her toy solder band come to life. They are marching and tooting little horns and beating tiny drums in tune to some long forgotten German military song of victory. Suddenly mom walks in and they all drop lifeless on the floor. Like they were never alive at all. My machines would be playing a in a very similar fashion. Except the music would be sounds of clattering and metal on metal banging. The wurrring alternating current electric motors straining hard to twist and form steel into shapes I have only visualized in the very back of my brain. Welders would be welding, and sanders would be throwing a rain of sparks, making everything babies butt smooth. What a sight that would be. My hands would be directing every move, and every cut with precision like a conductors baton. I would not have to physically move my body from where I was sitting. I could just stay stationary puffing away on my Tiparillo. This would be the perfect world. Never breaking a sweat, and hands never getting dirty. I would never again have to stop my battered fingers from bleeding with Crazy Glue and duct tape. Now that I think about it I wouldn’t need steel toe Blundstones, and could just wear my pajamas all day. Oh what a glorious world. I just keep staring. Nothing is moving. A slight breeze comes in the door and sweeps across my face. I take this as the sign that the mental powers that I have unleashed upon my workshop are about to take full effect. My brow tightens, my fists clench. My inner voice now at 200 decibels screams out! I COMMAND THEE!!
Still nothing.
My staring is now growing weary. I find it hard to focus on anything in particular. I look down at the top of my toolbox that I sitting next too, and realize I have one bite left of my sandwich. I pluck it up and pop it into my mouth. I guess my lunch break is officially over.
I’d better get back to work.


Via Jessie James' Butt Pee