REAL MEN USE TOOLS
By AEIU
Mark McCormick, ex-con and recent parolee, had heard all kind of talk in his short event-filled life. The trash talk between racecar drivers as they strove for a psychological edge over their competitors, the vicious hurtful words from an ex-lover after the affair is over, the menacing words between inmates in prison as they try to instill fear in those around them, and, recently, the heart-stopping words from the mouth of a crime lord's minion who ordered McCormick to dig his own grave. However no person's words had the ability to fill him with such an equal amount of dread and amusement as the man standing over him.
"What did you say?" asked McCormick as he pulled himself out from under the car and wiped the grease from his hands.
"I said get yourself cleaned up, grab my toolbox, and I'll show you how to fix a water heater."
"You're not talking about the water heater to the gatehouse?"
"No," answered the judge sarcastically, "I thought we'd wander around to the neighbor's houses and see if any of them will let us fix with their water heater."
"I think I like that idea better," McCormick muttered under his breath. In a louder but more doubtful tone, he queried, "Have you ever done this before?"
"Sure, I have. Lots of time. You can't be shelling out good money to some guy to fix something you can do yourself. You've been carping about it long enough so let's get going."
Though reluctant, McCormick realized the futility of standing in the way of the inevitable once the judge had made up his mind; so he cleaned up, dug out the toolbox, and dutifully followed Hardcastle.
The water heater was located in a small nearly windowless room at the back of the gatehouse. The only egress was through a formidable locked door on the outside of the house. In a moment of bored curiosity, the ex-con had picked the lock but discovered the room was damp, dirty, and appeared to be, the lost gravesite of old rusty yard tools.
Hardcastle paused as he looked at the bottom of the lock. He shot a questioning glace over to McCormick who donned his best 'who me' expression of innocence. Less than a year free from the house with many doors, Mark knew Hardcastle would be bluffing if he claimed to see pick marks on the lock. Luckily the judge decided not to voice his suspicions and avoided an awkward moment.
As Hardcastle confidently strode towards the nonworking water heater, McCormick noted the single 15 watt el-cheapo light bulb which cast an insufficient eerie light throughout the room. It made the metal monstrosity of a water heater look slightly ominous as it loomed in the corner of the room surrounded by strangely bumpy pipes which ran piecemeal throughout the room.
"This is a water heater," said Hardcastle giving it a sharp slap along its side. The light bulb chose that moment to follow its own light to the other side. It flickered once and went out leaving the room to rely on the indirect light provided by a couple of small filthy windows. It made the water heater look even more sinister amidst the shadows.
"And that's a bad sign," said McCormick.
"Don't be getting all superstitious on me. I've got a flashlight in the box."
McCormick dug the flashlight out from the bottom of the toolbox and directed the beam of light towards the water heater as Hardcastle continued. "It's important to know how to do your own repair work. You already know how to do some car repairs so it's time to learn about home repair."
"Why don't we just stick to a division of labor; I'll do the cars and you do home?" Mark asked as he shined his light on one of the pipes which ran over his head. He ran his fingers along the strange silvery material which had been swathed around the pipe. It was old, crackly, and wrapped indiscriminately throughout the room. "What is this stuff?"
"That's duct tape. You can repair just about anything with it."
McCormick could feel the dampness as small bits of water seeped past the tape. "You mean I'm getting dribbles out of the shower because you fixed the pipes with scotch tape!" he questioned with outrage in his voice.
"Not scotch tape; duct tape."
"Like quack, quack."
"No," Hardcastle answered in a voice suited for an adult trying to placate a young and particularly dim child. "Like air vent ducts. It's waterproof and sticks to about anything. I'll admit that there might be a few places that need a touch up but we can do that after the water heater. Shine the light down here and I'll show you how to make sure the gas is turned off."
"Gas!" McCormick exclaimed with a tinge of panic. "Like boom, gas."
"No, like so simple that anyone with an I.Q. higher than a rock should be able to turn it off and fix their water heater."
"I don't know, judge. I remember a commercial that says to leave gas to the professionals."
"Professional," snorted Hardcastle. "Some guy puts a piece of paper on his wall and thinks he can charge ten times what a job is worth. It's probably something easy like the pilot light." Hardcastle looked closer at the lower burner in the water heater. "Yep, your pilot light is out. Shine the light under here and hand me the matches."
McCormick squatted down and shone his flashlight under the water heater. As the light hit a dark spot on the floor, the shape appeared to tremble then broke apart as numerous bugs ran from the light.
"Cheez,"cried McCormick in surprise as he nearly dropped the flashlight. "So this is where the cockroaches are coming from." One of the larger bugs stopped in its flight and turned back towards Mark. The black insect arrogantly twitched its antennas as it sized up the interloper to his home. The bug did not appear to be impressed. "I don't think this one likes me," McCormick said as he looked around for something to swat it with."
"Yea, I'm pretty sure he's the ring leader. I ran into him a couple of nights ago when I had to spend the night here. Have Sarah pick up a couple cans of spray and take care of them."
McCormick grinned to himself as he thought back on that night. Even though it had nearly ended in his death, he could not remember it as a wholly unpleasant experience. The time he spent successfully comforting the duplicitous Tina Gray was made sweeter with the knowledge the judge had spent the night in the gatehouse with the cockroaches and cold water.
"Okay," said Hardcastle instructively, "this is the access panel. It's where you can get to all the parts you're going to need to fix."
"What's that on the floor?"
"Oh, that's the door to the panel. That came off a long time ago. It's really more of a nuisance than anything," the judge said dismissively as McCormick snagged an aged and filthy booklet lying nearby.
"Now, this is the important part," the judge continued, "you've got to turn off the gas control knob otherwise you'll get that boom you were worried about." Hardcastle reached for the knob which fell to the floor with the first touch of his hand. Without even a shrug, he shoved the knob back into place and began twisting it until the knob was immobile. "Press down the reset button, turn the gas button to pilot and you're ready to go. Are you paying attention?"
McCormick's flashlight was fixed onto the booklet he had discovered. "Hardcase," he exclaimed, "this is the instruction book and it says you're supposed to wait five minutes after turning off the gas before trying to light the pilot. You haven't even waited one."
"Bah, they're just being overly cautious. Watch, cuz I'm going to expect you to do this next time."
"It, also, says that if the heater is rusty then you should replace it," McCormick pointed out as he pointed to the old water heater which had several duct tape repair patches across it.
"There's plenty of life left in this old girl. You can't solve all your problems by throwing money at them. Now watch how a real expert fixes the problem."
McCormick continued to hold the flashlight steady as Hardcastle pulled out a match and successfully lit the pilot light. His grin of triumph faltered as the light sputtered and went out. The grin did not reappear as the next three times were, also, unsuccessful.
Using his best Jay Silverheel's voice, McCormick said, "What now Kemosabe. White man's expert magic firesticks no work."
"Just a few pieces that need to be cleaned, wise guy. Hand me the tool box and I'll show you how it's done."
The weekend handyman began lying out an array of tools as his apprentice continued to read the manual. Hardcastle had removed a few smaller pieces from the uncooperative water heater when he heard giggling behind him.
"Hey Judge, what about the cock?" McCormick snickered.
"What!" Hardcastle asked as he turned and stared incredulously at the parolee.
"It's right there in the orifice," McCormick grinned as he gestured towards the water heater. The judge gaped at him as if he had lost his mind as Mark continued, "The book says if you want to clean the pilot orifice; you need to start with the gas cock which is located in the orifice."
"What are you, eleven? Now hand me that screwdriver."
"Sure, judge," McCormick snorted, "here's your tool so you can work on the orifice and light its fire. But shouldn't you, at least, take it to diner and a movie first."
"Just sit down, shut up, and learn."
Hardcastle continued to work, as McCormick refocused his attention on the instruction manual.
"After removing the burner, take you steely wire. Hmm, not very complimentary there. And probe the orifice," McCormick directed in a suggestive voice.
Hardcastle sighed as he carefully probed the orifice to remove the debris. It's going to be a long afternoon," he thought.
"It says," McCormick's voice boomed worriedly in the small room, "do not use a paperclip as it may damage and block the orifice." He stared pointedly at the straightened paperclip that Hardcastle had stuck inside the orifice. "Judge, don't you know that blockage can lead to constipation. And where are we going to get a laxative for this thing?"
"It doesn't need laxative! It's a water heater," the judge shouted as the pliers he was using to tighten the screw slipped injuring his hand.
There was only a little sympathy in McCormick's eyes as he looked over the seeping wound on the judge's hand. "It says you weren't supposed to over tighten that nut, judge." He backed away as he saw the look of pure murder in Hardcastle's eyes.
The 'Hardcastle Warning Look' had quieted alleged murderers and arguing attorneys alike; he hoped it would work on one immature car thief so he'd be able to finish the job in peace. The hope was short lived as he heard the familiar and annoying voice continue from behind him.
"It says that if you need to replace the thermo coupling device, you'll have to remove its nuts," McCormick cackled. "I know how it feels. I've had a few girlfriends who wanted to do that."
Slapping the pliers down on the floor, Hardcastle sat up and glared at McCormick who flashed him a sheepish grin. "Okay, that's enough," he said in a put-upon voice. "I was trying to teach you something important but you want to act like a kid looking at pictures in National Geographic Magazine. But one day when you're broke because you're spending all your money on plumbers and stuff because you don't know how to replace a light bulb; I want you to remember this day."
"I remember everyday with you. They're called nightmares."
In his long suffering voice, the judge continued, "That's what I'm talking about. If you can't take this seriously then you don't need to be here. I can get it done quicker without your commentary."
"I'm just having some fun."
"Can you promise no more wisecracks?"
McCormick rubbed one hand across his mouth as he read the suggestive instructions in the fix-it manual. "Ahhh. No I can't," he admitted.
"Fine, take your fifth grade sense of humor and go use it on the rose bushes. They still need to be pruned."
"You sure?"
"Yep. Before you're finished with the front yard, you are going to have a working water heater."
McCormick got up and started out of the room. He couldn't figure why but he felt guilty about leaving the judge alone with the water heater. He cast a glance back at Hardcastle who had already returned to his work. Mark could swear the heater looked almost triumphant as the judge continued to tinker underneath it. He realized he was being silly so he turned his back on the dark and damp room and returned to the land of the sun.
McCormick had already started pruning the roses on the side of the estate when Sarah Wicks, the housekeeper, returned home from the market. He had checked on the judge's progress after he finished the roses in the front of the house; however after seeing the empty rolls of duct tape sitting amid the pile of metal and hearing Hardcastle one-sided dissertation on the questionable quality of water heaters and jail house Tontos; he decided discretion was the best course and quietly returned to his pruning chores.
"Hi, Sarah," Mark said abandoning his pruning shears. "Let me help."
"Thank you, Mark. Most of these go into the main house but I have a couple of bags for the gatehouse." After helping Sarah put away the lion share of the supplies in the manor, he followed behind her with the other bags into the gatehouse.
"Sarah, do you think you could buy a couple of cans of bug spray next time you're at the store?" Mark asked as he unpacked the sacks.
"Certainly. Are you having a problem with insects?
"Just a little problem with cockroaches." Not hearing any reply he turned to face the housekeeper whose face had gone white. "Are you okay?"
"Cockroaches!" she exclaimed in a shocked voice. "You've brought cockroaches into this house?"
"No," McCormick denied. "They were here when I moved in."
"Mister McCormick, are you suggesting I would run a cockroach infested house?" Sarah demanded in a voice which could freeze water.
Once again McCormick decided the path of discretion was the safest course. "No, you're right," he admitted. "I probably brought them in."
Gracious in victory, Sarah relented. "It wouldn't have been your fault. They probably came from that awful apartment you were living in before you got here. But you should've told me sooner. Cockroaches are something that should be handled immediately before it gets too bad."
"I told the judge," Mark explained.
Sarah sighed and fixed her eyes on the young residence of the gatehouse. "The judge has many fine qualities but if there are any problems with the house or the estate, you should tell me about them."
"Like the water heater."
"You didn't tell the judge that you were having trouble with the water heater, did you?
"Yeah," Mark admitted.
"Where is he?" asked Sarah with a worried tone.
"He's out back fixing the water heater."
"Oh dear. How long has he been out there?"
Before McCormick could respond, the front door of the gatehouse swung open and Hardcastle entered the house his face flush with victory.
"Hah, you didn't think I could do it, did you?" the judge boasted while giving a nod of greeting to the concerned housekeeper. "Come to the sink and I'll show you what good old fashion know-how and elbow grease can do."
Sarah and Mark followed the judge to the sink and watched as he turned on the faucet. The sink shuddered slightly and a darkish hue of sediment water spurted out of the tap.
"Just give it a minute for the pipes to clear," Hardcastle said in response to the look of disgust on McCormick's face. The judge's mouth burst into a smile as the water cleared but it turned into a frown as it sputtered and the flow of water petered out. He turned off the spigot and tried again. The only response was an unearthly screech from the bowels of the pipes which caused McCormick to instinctively reach for the St. Jude medallion around his throat. Hardcastle looked confused at the obstinate sink when they heard a small explosion which caused the room to vibrate.
"What was that?" cried McCormick.
"Probably just a small earthquake," guessed Hardcastle. "We get those around here."
"Do you hear that?" asked Sarah. "It sounds like running water."
As understanding dawned on each of them, McCormick and Hardcastle ran to the water heater while Sarah took the opportunity to return to the main house where she kept a handy list of local plumbers and professional fix-it shops.
As they entered the small room, the two men froze at the sight before them. Some water still poured out of the hole located in the bottom of the water heater. It joined with the water which gushed from the broken pipes throughout the room. McCormick counted five broken pipes and several smaller leaks all contributing to the small lake which was growing in the room.
"Hardcase, what did you do?" screamed McCormick. "Now I'm not going to have any water."
"Don't be getting all upset, McCormick. I can fix this." Hardcastle stood with his hands on his hips as he viewed the watery carnage in the room. "Might need more duct tape, though," he mused.
THE END