Profanity/violence warning.
Bill, the mechanic was standing over a running car, staring into...
Bill, the mechanic was standing over a running car, staring into...
Bob's Story: The Bobbening Bob One: BILL
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Profanity/violence warning.
Bill, the mechanic was standing over a running car, staring into the engine, trying to find out the problem. The car was running, but not without a terrible chugging sound. Outside the garage, the wind was howling, and snow and ice was falling out of the sky.
It was good that Bill had installed several high-capacity gas heaters a few weeks ago, each of which were powerful enough to heat a massive warehouse. The shed was also exceptionally well-insulated, with meters and meters of solid steel and rubber lining, creating a completely airtight interior for maximum protection of both equipment and personnel to the outside elements.
However, not everything was good news. That day, all four of Bill's canaries had suddenly and mysteriously died, all within very tight time spans. Not only had most of his pets died, but some of his equipment was also starting to fail, and Bill had a feeling that it had to do with the massive amount of condensation in the garage.
There was so much condensation that Bill had placed buckets everywhere, and within only a few hours, already three buckets were filled to the brim with water. Bill had no idea where all this humidity had come from, the garage was completely sealed, so how could there possibly be any moisture coming in?
Bill had already made an appointment with one of his commanding officers, whose names were Karben and Nonorzide.
Of the two CO's, Bill's favourite was none but the original Founder of his company, which was named CMP Mechanics, a gigantic, sprawling empire of mechanical shops spread over the USA like toxic gases accumulating in an enclosed space.
Unfortunately for Bill, his favourite CO yet, Karben, was out of town and could not attend to his request. Instead, Nonorzide had to attend, who was definitely not Bill's favourite CO in the industry.
The phone rang, interrupting Bill's thought process. He slowly stumbled over to it, apparently a bit wonky on his feet. He answered it.
"Hello, this is CMP Mechanics, who is speaking?", said Bill.
"Is this Bill?", the voice said.
Bill walked over to the CCTV monitors and looked through them. Outside the garage stood several men, armed with AK-47s. A single M113 carrier stood next to them.
"Yes, this is Bill, master engineer of CMP Mechanics.", said Bill.
Bill hovered his finger over the automated defenses. With the single press of a button, the exterior of the garage of the building would be immediately flooded with flaming barrels of napalm.
"Alright, Bill, we have a armoured carrier outside and several armed men. Here's how it's going to work, you will hand over the carbon plates, and then we will not harm you. Understood?", said the man.
The carbon plates he wanted were part of the government's InfinniFuel program. By compressing quadrillions of carbon atoms into a single plate of carbon thinner than a cutting-edge (literally cutting) OLED screen and smaller than a A4-sized piece of paper, the carbon plates were capable of powering an entire present-day country for an entire century. However, these carbon plates were also extremely expensive, no less than $1,000 per gram of plating.
If the exterior defenses failed, Bill knew he had an entire battalion of heavily armed security guards about 10 minutes away, while it would take at least 30 minutes to cut through the garage doors.
Bill suddenly felt very tired and confused, and felt as if there was a strange buzzing in his head. He probably just needed some more sleep, so he ignored it. It was a little cold, though, so he reached for his remote controller and increased the gas heater's capacity, watching the yellow flames dash across the grille.
He turned back to the telephone.
"Nah mate, that's not going to happen. I have more than an entire battalion of turtles ready to launch carbon at you no.", said Bill, feeling a bit woozy as there was suddenly a ringing noise from above.
"What the fuck? Just give us the stuff, we'll even pay you! Your manager will forgive you, I'm sure of it. Open the damn doors now.", said the bandits outside.
Bill spun around, almost passing out, and rested on a pole nearby. The ringing noise was louder now, and it seemed to be coming from the ceiling. Bill looked up at the direction of the ringing and discovered that it indeed was coming from the ceiling.
A small white box with a single grille and a flashing red light was stuck onto the ceiling. Bill did not remember putting that there, that's for sure. There were also some bits of paper which looked suspiciously similar to post-it-notes hanging near it, which Bill did also not remember putting there.
Fuck, what if his managers were actually spying on him all this time? Now that was a worrying thought. Maybe that's why there were a bunch of raiders outside the shed, plotting to murder him!
He had to calm down, first. He went back to the telephone.
"Suuuuure, the carbon stuff will be there in just a second, mate. Just. One. Second. Literally, that's alllll the time, mate, just hold on and there will be some carbon down there. Okaaay?", said Bill, hoping to delay the bandits.
"Alright, mate. We'll give you 30 minutes to bring it outside.", said the bandit's leader.
Bill stumbled over to a ladder and knocked it over and climbed ontop of it. He needed to get to the ceiling. It was his only chance. He rubbed his head. He knew that the ringing machine was actually a spy machine, and now it was spewing toxic gases which were killing him! He needed to destroy it right now!
Bill staggered and fell down; evidently he could not walk straight on the toppled ladder. Still, that wasn't a problem as he crawled over to his work table and grabbed a can of gasoline.
"WHY IS IT STILL GOING!? SHUT THE FUCK UP! I WILL KILL YOU!", shouted Bill at the white box on the ceiling.
Bill slowly crawled back to his feet, took aim, and threw the can of gasoline at the ceiling as best he could, sighing in dismay as the gasoline instead splattered on the floor and ceiling, some of it bursting into flames when it touched the exposed yellow fire of the gas heaters.
Shit! That was more damage he'd have to pay for, Bill thought, staggering.
"OH FUCK, MY BIRDS!", yelled Bill as he remembered he needed to feed his canaries.
"Have to feed bird, bird good, bird food, food bird, foodie bird", said Bill excitedly as he ran over and grabbed a bottle of kerosene and rushed back to his bird room.
The birds lay on the bottom of the cage, stiff and unmoving. Bill was not discouraged, he knew all they required was a little grain and water. He enthusiastically poured the entire bottle of kerosene over the lifeless birds. "There there, little chicky chicky. Foodie doodie has come to save you!", said Bill grinning at the kerosene-soaked birds.
Now that the birds were fed, he could get around to fixing that damn car! He was supposed to have it fixed yesterday, now he was losing money, damn it! Bill ran back into the car garage and slammed into the car, apparently not noticing it.
"What the fuck! A ghost! A real, true to life ghost! I'll be damned, I thought those things only existed in movies!", said Bill as he ran around in circles and collapsed to the floor.
Bill, the mechanic was standing over a running car, staring into the engine, trying to find out the problem. The car was running, but not without a terrible chugging sound. Outside the garage, the wind was howling, and snow and ice was falling out of the sky.
It was good that Bill had installed several high-capacity gas heaters a few weeks ago, each of which were powerful enough to heat a massive warehouse. The shed was also exceptionally well-insulated, with meters and meters of solid steel and rubber lining, creating a completely airtight interior for maximum protection of both equipment and personnel to the outside elements.
However, not everything was good news. That day, all four of Bill's canaries had suddenly and mysteriously died, all within very tight time spans. Not only had most of his pets died, but some of his equipment was also starting to fail, and Bill had a feeling that it had to do with the massive amount of condensation in the garage.
There was so much condensation that Bill had placed buckets everywhere, and within only a few hours, already three buckets were filled to the brim with water. Bill had no idea where all this humidity had come from, the garage was completely sealed, so how could there possibly be any moisture coming in?
Bill had already made an appointment with one of his commanding officers, whose names were Karben and Nonorzide.
Of the two CO's, Bill's favourite was none but the original Founder of his company, which was named CMP Mechanics, a gigantic, sprawling empire of mechanical shops spread over the USA like toxic gases accumulating in an enclosed space.
Unfortunately for Bill, his favourite CO yet, Karben, was out of town and could not attend to his request. Instead, Nonorzide had to attend, who was definitely not Bill's favourite CO in the industry.
The phone rang, interrupting Bill's thought process. He slowly stumbled over to it, apparently a bit wonky on his feet. He answered it.
"Hello, this is CMP Mechanics, who is speaking?", said Bill.
"Is this Bill?", the voice said.
Bill walked over to the CCTV monitors and looked through them. Outside the garage stood several men, armed with AK-47s. A single M113 carrier stood next to them.
"Yes, this is Bill, master engineer of CMP Mechanics.", said Bill.
Bill hovered his finger over the automated defenses. With the single press of a button, the exterior of the garage of the building would be immediately flooded with flaming barrels of napalm.
"Alright, Bill, we have a armoured carrier outside and several armed men. Here's how it's going to work, you will hand over the carbon plates, and then we will not harm you. Understood?", said the man.
The carbon plates he wanted were part of the government's InfinniFuel program. By compressing quadrillions of carbon atoms into a single plate of carbon thinner than a cutting-edge (literally cutting) OLED screen and smaller than a A4-sized piece of paper, the carbon plates were capable of powering an entire present-day country for an entire century. However, these carbon plates were also extremely expensive, no less than $1,000 per gram of plating.
If the exterior defenses failed, Bill knew he had an entire battalion of heavily armed security guards about 10 minutes away, while it would take at least 30 minutes to cut through the garage doors.
Bill suddenly felt very tired and confused, and felt as if there was a strange buzzing in his head. He probably just needed some more sleep, so he ignored it. It was a little cold, though, so he reached for his remote controller and increased the gas heater's capacity, watching the yellow flames dash across the grille.
He turned back to the telephone.
"Nah mate, that's not going to happen. I have more than an entire battalion of turtles ready to launch carbon at you no.", said Bill, feeling a bit woozy as there was suddenly a ringing noise from above.
"What the fuck? Just give us the stuff, we'll even pay you! Your manager will forgive you, I'm sure of it. Open the damn doors now.", said the bandits outside.
Bill spun around, almost passing out, and rested on a pole nearby. The ringing noise was louder now, and it seemed to be coming from the ceiling. Bill looked up at the direction of the ringing and discovered that it indeed was coming from the ceiling.
A small white box with a single grille and a flashing red light was stuck onto the ceiling. Bill did not remember putting that there, that's for sure. There were also some bits of paper which looked suspiciously similar to post-it-notes hanging near it, which Bill did also not remember putting there.
Fuck, what if his managers were actually spying on him all this time? Now that was a worrying thought. Maybe that's why there were a bunch of raiders outside the shed, plotting to murder him!
He had to calm down, first. He went back to the telephone.
"Suuuuure, the carbon stuff will be there in just a second, mate. Just. One. Second. Literally, that's alllll the time, mate, just hold on and there will be some carbon down there. Okaaay?", said Bill, hoping to delay the bandits.
"Alright, mate. We'll give you 30 minutes to bring it outside.", said the bandit's leader.
Bill stumbled over to a ladder and knocked it over and climbed ontop of it. He needed to get to the ceiling. It was his only chance. He rubbed his head. He knew that the ringing machine was actually a spy machine, and now it was spewing toxic gases which were killing him! He needed to destroy it right now!
Bill staggered and fell down; evidently he could not walk straight on the toppled ladder. Still, that wasn't a problem as he crawled over to his work table and grabbed a can of gasoline.
"WHY IS IT STILL GOING!? SHUT THE FUCK UP! I WILL KILL YOU!", shouted Bill at the white box on the ceiling.
Bill slowly crawled back to his feet, took aim, and threw the can of gasoline at the ceiling as best he could, sighing in dismay as the gasoline instead splattered on the floor and ceiling, some of it bursting into flames when it touched the exposed yellow fire of the gas heaters.
Shit! That was more damage he'd have to pay for, Bill thought, staggering.
"OH FUCK, MY BIRDS!", yelled Bill as he remembered he needed to feed his canaries.
"Have to feed bird, bird good, bird food, food bird, foodie bird", said Bill excitedly as he ran over and grabbed a bottle of kerosene and rushed back to his bird room.
The birds lay on the bottom of the cage, stiff and unmoving. Bill was not discouraged, he knew all they required was a little grain and water. He enthusiastically poured the entire bottle of kerosene over the lifeless birds. "There there, little chicky chicky. Foodie doodie has come to save you!", said Bill grinning at the kerosene-soaked birds.
Now that the birds were fed, he could get around to fixing that damn car! He was supposed to have it fixed yesterday, now he was losing money, damn it! Bill ran back into the car garage and slammed into the car, apparently not noticing it.
"What the fuck! A ghost! A real, true to life ghost! I'll be damned, I thought those things only existed in movies!", said Bill as he ran around in circles and collapsed to the floor.