Mr. Meccano Manbybravepuss©
I've a hell of a story to tell. It's fucking unbelievable. I can hardly believe it now, after what's happened to me, but I can assure you this shit did happen. It's pretty freaky, pretty funny I guess, although for a long time (far too long, friendos) I didn't see nothing funny about it at all. Oh, and it also gets pretty hot which is why I'm passing it onto you dudes and maybe if you like it some of you can send me in some advice about what to do next. I could sure do with it. I don't want any 'what you should have done' jive either. I can do without that. I know what I should have done.
What I should have done was kick the fucker out the first time I clapped eyes on him, that's what I should have done. Given him a kicking and kicked him out. But you don't do that to old men do ya? Especially not to tiny old men, like a dwarf. You wouldn't do that to someone like that would ya? Although I should have sussed something wasn't right the day he walked into my shed, but then I was suffering a mighty head from the night before and I was fed up wrestling with a really fucking ancient brake master cylinder on one of my customer's ancient fucking pick-ups. Why do these fucking things exist and why do they always end up in my workshop the day after the night before? I was not happy. My fingers were just not doing the business. I dunno how long I had been fucking around with the socket bar and cursing louder and louder when this cracked, wheezy voice burst out from nowhere all of a sudden.
'How 'bout ye?'
What.The. Fuck? - was my first thought, and then my second thought was, who the fuck talks like that?
I rolled out from under the prehistoric number I was working on and sat up. I found myself face to face with the owner of the voice -- that's how short the fucker was. Couldn't have been more'n two or three feet high. An old boy, the size of a toddler. The strangest fuckin apparition you have ever seen. Fucking weird. I should have known there and then that this weren't right but the late night beer fug was heavy in my head and I wasn't up to thinking things through, I was up to taking the easy route on things. It was as much as I could do not to laugh in the old badger's face. Come to think of it, he did look a bit like a badger! He had one fuck of a wide, sloping nose with a pair of sharp grey eyes that just bored down his nose at you and made it hard for you to disagree with him. Maybe that's why I didn't laugh at him straight off, but mind you it was a close run thing there for a bit cos he just looked funny. I mean he was short, okay, with a gnarly, old face and all but he also had the most out of place clothes on as well. You know I'm no fucking historian or anything but what he had on looked like the sort of thing old boys wore a hundred years ago, shit, maybe two hundred years ago. It was a suit right out of history and to top it all he had on a pair of boots to match. They were of the sort that nobody wears anymore cos they just ain't made anymore. They were tough looking, hardy and they went well up over the ankle - which I could tell cos of the cut of his ancient looking fucking trousers -- and they were the sort of colour you just couldn't name easily. I mean they weren't brown, but they weren't black either.
'How 'bout ye?' he barked at me again. I noticed that some of his teeth glinted and some were well black.
'Woah......woah.........not so fucking loud motherfucker!' I replied as loud as my throb of a head would allow.
'Motherfucking, huh? Is it the motherfucking you're knowledgeable about is it?' he sniffed in a knowing sort of way and then he winked. I can assure you now that it was not a trusting wink, it was not reassuring in any way.
'Yessir! There's many a man would like to do a bit of the motherfucking,' he continued fixing his eyes on me, 'oh ....they never come around to admitting it but I can tell you.....er, what's your name son?'
'Uhhhh................Craig' I said without thinking about not giving him my name. See what I mean about not being able to say no to him and those eyes of his.
'Craig, huh? Well I bet you're like any other red blooded, well blooded man and there's been many a time that you'd like to give your mama a good beefing up between her legs with your stiff un......lie her down and get her all juicy and then sli...'
'What the fuck! Listen you old cunt if you don't shut the fuck up I'll wallop you outta her with the biggest fucking spanner I have.'
I gotta tell ya that I should have fucking lamped him there and then. What is it with these old fuckers? I was thinking to myself. Just the other week I'd had another old buzzard in here talking dirty. My workshop is well out of town but each summer, when visitors come into town then one or two would get out as far as my place and maybe idle the time of day before shuffling back on into the train station or bus station or wherever the fuck they came from. This one old boy had turned up each summer so I thought he was okay, harmless enough but the last time he was in he started bumming on about catching his neighbour's daughter on in her garden getting her Alsation to fuck her on a hot day. Now, that is just weird shit ain't it? Dirty weird, unwanted shit that a body just doesn't need to hear. As far as I could tell the old fuck was living out some fantasy of his and I was fucked if I wanted to hear what got the old goat off. So I fucked him out good and quick and I won't be seeing him again and if I do I shall fuck him out again. Anyway, here was another old bastard who was rapidly placing himself on the very same railroad.
'Ssshh, sssshhh, sssshhh' he wheezed. I eventually realized he was laughing. So then I did hit him. With the socket bar I still had in my hand. Well I told you I was only thinking of easy options, my head was in that mood. So I clubbed a three foot high old man cos he laughed at me. I know, I know..........I told you at the start that I didn't give him a kicking and kicked him out. Well, I didn't. I just clubbed him, that's all.
It was a few seconds before I realized what I'd done. I looked at the bar in my hand for a few moments and then snorted and cleared my throat and wiped my nose greasily on my overalls. Fuck off, I told you I was suffering. Anyway, I ended up staring at the soles of his boots since they were the closest things to me. The nails that ran around the outside of them looked copper, or bronze which was different. In fact, some of them were well shiny the closer I looked, like they were gold or something...........uh, hold on a minute here, I thought, let's get my shit together here this here old boy is something out of the ordinary but he ain't that out of the ordinary. He is not a fucking leprechaun, Craig you moron of a mechanic, not a fucking leprechaun. You geddit, brother, not, not, not. They do not exist.
Then I noticed that his faded duds were green. You wouldn't have noticed it at first but, now, with him lying there in a patch of sun coming through the skylight, I could see there was a colour to the suit he had on, like it was faded moss.
I took in a deep breath, held it and then puffed my cheeks out. I steadied my head a bit. There was no way he was a leprechaun. Where was his funny hat, they were supposed to wear, huh? Where was his little club stick thing he was supposed to have? Where was his fucking pipe, then? It was all a crock of shit. He was an old man, a dwarf and I had just laid him out, that's all -- and that was bad enough -- but there was one sure thing. He was not a fuckin leprechaun. Then he groaned - thank fuck I hadn't killed him - and he gave off to me.
'Strike one of the little folk would ye?'
Fuck, I damned near freaked. He's just using that term loosely, I thought, he is not a leprechaun.
'I am a leprechaun' he says and struggles up to his elbows.
This presented me with two problems. One, it sounded as if he could read my thoughts and two, it sounded like he was a fucking leprechaun even though they don't exist. All I knew was that my morning had taken a turn for the worse and that I had better watch myself here cos to play safe I'd better look on the dark side. It's a trick I've learned. It helps with work. I assume the worst case scenario. I always look on the dark side and then work according to that. It means that I always come out winning cos I never get to the lowest levels of the worst case scenario. What happens on the few occasions that I have encountered the rock bottom situation is that, because I am prepared, then I usually break out even.
So I was shifting my ground very, very quickly. I was prepared to accept that this old boy was a leprechaun just so I was not going to be caught out. I was ready for the old cunt. Mind you, if he could read my mind he knew that by now. I stared at his wrinkly face as he sat up to face me. Then I waited. Damn if I was gonna speak first and let him trip me up. Unfortunately, he was thinking the same so he just sat there staring right back at me with those pointy grey eyes of his. This went on for quite some time. We could hear each other's breathing rhythms and I can tell you that mine were a lot more laboured than his. Must be cos I smoke..........ah, there's an idea! That'll pass the time. I fumbled in my top overalls pocket for my ciggys, taking my eye off him for a second. When I looked back, with my fag in my mouth, he was already setting a light to a pipe (fuck, no, nooo) that he now had stuck in his gob. One minu....wait...one second ago it wasn't there and now there it was!
If I ever needed confirmation that he was what he claimed to be then the pipe was a pretty good sealer of the debate. It was, much like the rest of his appearance, the most outlandish article for the purposes of smoking you have ever seen. I mean, I know those bongs you get for smoking dope with all the pipes coming out and the decorations and all, I know they look pretty wild. But his pipe had the beating of that or anything. It looked like a fucking tree root, bent in an S shape and it had three bands of thin silver wrapped tight around it with some fine engraving work on them. A thick cloud of smoke was pumping out of the bell end of a funnel. It was a fucking wild pong.
'Fucking smells like horseshit you're smoking' I said, breaking our silence battle.
'And ye would know what that smells like wouldn't ye, ye big shite ye' he replies, clearly back in shape. I have knocked men out for less and my hand reached out for the socket bar.
'Ah, you don't want to be hitting me again, it was bad enough for you the first time.'
'You deserved that, talking dirty about my mother. Jesuuz, man what do you expect for that sort of talk? A shake of the hand? Here......what do you mean, it was bad enough for me the first time?'
He didn't answer straight away. He took a long slow puff on that twig thing he was using for a pipe and his shifty eyes went shiftying around my workshop before they settled back on me.
'Well, y'see now, any person that lays a hand, or weapon, upon one of the little people will end up being justly punished by the aforementioned little people, or little person, should he or she survive such an attack........which I clearly have.......so I shall be seeking my revenge upon you' and the little bastard grinned at me. Horrible grin it was, not good -- it made ya want to be sick.
'And 'ow do you mean to get me back even though you asked for a whacking in the first place' I demanded.
'Secondly, I did not ask to be whacked and....'
'You were well out of order saying what you said' I interrupted.
'You have a short temper' he countered.
'I have a hangover'
'No excuse, and firstly I will not be telling you how I plan to get you back but here's a clue........I'll find out your weakness and exploit it.'
'You are a nasty wee cunt of an old man'
'My name is McHaragarty'
'I don't care! Whoever or whatever you are! I don't give a fuck about what you plan so just get out of my shop and leave me alone!!' I shouted.
And do you know what? He did get out of my sight. Just like that. He disappeared before my eyes. There one minute...wait.....one second, and gone the next. I dropped the socket bar again -- oh yes I had picked it up again ready to smack him, he was pissing me off so much. I puffed out the last of my cigarette and made a managerial decision. Fuck work, go to the Bar. I needed that hairy dog to calm my body and now my mind. Just forget about today it never happened.
So I left, locked up and went and got pissed again. It was the least I could do for myself and it erased the day. Unfortunately it was never going to be that easy.
It was a gradual thing. It was hard to pin down at first. Y'know the kinda thing where you think afterwards 'was I imagining that?' and you tell yourself that you were cos if you weren't then the truth was uncomfortable. Sorry, that's not a good explanation. Here's the long and short of it. During the course of the next week or so, any woman that came into the workshop got all flirty with me. Well, duh Craig, how come you didn't spot that and, also, what's bad about that? Firstly, my little critical cubs, there ain't too many women customers come all the way into a garage workshop. You get me? It is a male thing -- the scuzzy car mechanics workshop. Oil, grease and a smutty calendar somewhere just out of view but you know its there. Women tend to stay outside and do business, sit in their cars, tell you the problem with car, pay quickly at the office window or pay sitting in the damn car. So I didn't get too many in with me, see? Mostly, middle aged plump ones and a retired old goose or two. So, you see the answer to yer second question? I don't get a whole lot of hot female customers and even if I did, I got a hot one I can see from time to time if I'm short of that sort to thing -- Dee, down at the bar, who gives just about the best blowjob on this Earth. And a man can't ask for more than that.
So whenever one of these customers had left the workshop I would be standing there wondering what the fuck was she just doing there with her arm all pressed up against me? Or was it me, or did she just come on to me? It was hard to tell. Until I got proof one day. Boy did I get proof that something was definitely going down.
Often I can expect a rush of customers dropping vehicles with me first thing and then rushing to get away to wherever they have to get to. This morning though, there was no-one until well after I had the big door open and the radio and kettle on. I heard the tyres on the hard core come to a halt -- the engine sounded fine, no rattle. Then a high voice, young.
'Craig? You in? I'm in a rush, school an' I got a fuckin flat!'
I knew the owner then. There was all the information I needed. The Christie's lived up the road, a mile or so. Big, rich house, nice enough people, the father a bit of a pain but never see him, the mother as hot as any woman you could hope to meet, and a couple of daughters in school, kinda nose in the air but not bad, could be much worse given the circumstances. You know what I mean, don't ya? The rich really cannot behave properly with other people, they ain't got the capability. The Christies, as I said, was sorta alright. This was the eldest daughter since she could drive being nineteen, though still in school, the last year. Yup, sure enough, I see it's her as she steps through the door.
'Hi Marie,' I says, 'got a flat, bring it on in and I'll put air in or change it here for you.
'Sure. Thanks' and she skips out into the sunlight. I spotted her sister then, sitting in the front passenger seat. She gave a wave. Shit, what was her name? Gotta think. Selena! That was it.
'Hi Selena!' I said as the car pulled alongside. She was only a year younger than her sister. Their old man must have been banging his wife every single day twenty years ago, probably still does, she still that hot.
'You girls can stay in there, I'll be quick here' I shouted at them as I ran the jack in underneath the front.
'Oh, sure Craig, you take as looong as you want, honey' one of them called out.
I suppose I should have copped on there and then. Cos that was a wild flirty voice if ever I heard one, and the Christie girls were never ever like that. Calling me honey? But I just wasn't thinking, it being first thing in the morning and no visit yet to my system from Mr. Caffeine.
There was more than a bit of giggling going on in that car. Schoolgirls. What can you expect. I thought they got better at not fucking giggling as they got older but these two, though eighteen and nineteen, weren't above that it seemed. Then the car bumped about a bit, more than once. Shit did they have a trampoline in there?
'Girls, quit the trampoline in there, huh. I don't want the car slipping on the jack'
'Oh, we'll get out then, Craig. Couldn't have anything slippin on your jack now, could we?'
See what I mean? That was damn flirty! I heard both the car doors open and shut and heard their footsteps come around and stop by me.
'Hmm, that is a big jack! What you think Marie? I wouldn't like for that to get slippy?
'Slippy big jack. U gotta a bigger jack than that Craig?' asked Marie.
'No, no. This is the biggest one I ha......' and I'm afraid my voice tailed off just like that. I had made the mistake of looking up. Now prepare yourselves. But when I looked up to one side of me all I seen was the shapeliest pair of long legs known to man no more than a foot from my head. They just went on up from my vision to end up at a school skirt that I just knowed was not at regulation height. That Marie had hitched and folded it at the waistband or something and her naked thighs was all out on display. Plus! She had no tights on. Shit! I quickly looked away. Too enthusiastic like cos I turned my head right round to the other side of me -- you know what's coming doncha? -- yeah, the other sister was just the same.
Oh boys, Oh girls. I knew then that some shit was going down. What were these two respectable girls doing all of a sudden? They had been messing with their clothes in that car and now they standing next to me, just sorta waving their legs at me. And though I like to think I am one sexy hunk of a guy, hell I ain't that much of a pull. Get real. I had better get this tyre on and fixed or I am in deep trouble. Oh, fuck you, you dirty people. No, I am not gonna fool around with schoolgirls. Legal though they might be. It is just trouble with capital T.
Soon as I could I got the spare round and was on my hunkers working the and off the punctured tyre didn't Marie only come and sit on the fucking bonnet right over where I'm working.
'This alright, Craig? That jack won't notice me sitting here will it?'
'Nope, I don't expect you weigh enough to trouble it' I joked looking up at her. I quickly looked away again. She had the strangest far away look on her face that I found left me nervy and she was smiling in a mischief making way and that really fucking made me nervy. It weren't right, not right at all. She din look right at all.. I worked the wrench on the nuts and tried to concentrate. Then the car shifted down a bit and Dee's voice came from above me.
'Alright if I sit up here and watch too Craig?' Selena asked me.
'Yep, yep. Fine. Just don't be jumping around' I really wanted to ignore them and get on with the job as quick as poss. But they weren't letting me off that easy. First one set of bare legs appeared either side of the wheel arch and then another. Bare and white against the red paintwork. Goddamn, but they were fine looking pins. As I kept working both pairs of legs flicked out and back against the car. Then they flicked the sandals off their feet. I coughed and shifted them away from my work area.
'Mind your feet there, girls, I'm working.'
'Ah, don't worry Craig, we know what we're doing' said one of them and they both giggled.