Repairman Distractions

I’d just been informed that the price of repairing my window would be my soul. I shuddered, as the cold air swirled around me like a whirlpool.

“I’m just kidding,” said the strange travelling repairman. “It will be five hundred dollars.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s fine, then. I can pay that.”

“In that case, it is one thousand dollars.” The repairman paused for a moment, then shook his head. “Just messing with you again. Five hundred it is.”

The cloaked figure went to snap his fingers, and I put my hand up. 

“Wait!” I said. “Before you fix my window, I’d like to know a bit more about your qualifications. Are you licensed? Tell me more about yourself before I agree to this work.”

I rushed over to my laptop and sat down, as the repairman seemed to consider my request for a moment. I had to keep stalling him, until the tracker I had put on his cloak calibrated. It was only 45% done. It’d need a few more minutes, at least.

“Well,” started the repairman, “I first began my apprenticeship for window frame replacement within Melbourne. Then my master and I travelled all across Australia, learning about all the different window and door types. By far, my favourite is the sliding doors and windows. Anyway, my master was, well, a master. He was the best. He taught me everything he knew.”

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“He passed away, unfortunately. It was during a sliding windows installation—or perhaps it was sliding doors? Either way, he passed on the last of his power to me, and now I am the master. It allows me to do things like this.”

The cloaked window repairman snapped his fingers, and suddenly my window—glass and frame—was repaired.

“Oh, thank you,” I said. “That’s incredible. Let me just get your money.” I spared a quick glance at the calibration screen. “Just a minute.”

When I returned, the calibration was done, and I closed the laptop. I put the cash in the mysterious man’s hand, and we parted ways.

All according to plan.

– Gillan Neptune