I recently bought a car that I love. It’s quite new and has all the fancy gadgets that people want in a car, like touch screen capabilities, cameras, cruise control, the lot. Everyone is really impressed with me because I saved up enough money to buy this awesome car even though I only work part-time. Not many people can say they own a car at my age, especially one that’s so new and fancy.
The only problem with my car is that my parents love it. They want to drive it everywhere, to the point where I don’t even get to drive my own car anymore. They just keep driving away with it and making me pay for the petrol even though they’re the people driving it! They said that it’s payback for all the years that they drove me around and I used their petrol.
They even made me take my car to the expert mechanic close to Hobart to get it repaired when one of them broke it! I don’t know what exactly they broke or how, and neither of them would admit who did it, but I’m angry. Surely I don’t have to pay for them to use my car and then damage it! I need to take a stand.
I think it’s getting to the point where I might have to move out. My parents are just taking advantage of my awesome car, and they don’t really care that I’ve asked them to stop. I overheard them talking in the kitchen yesterday morning about selling their cars and just using mine full time. Surely that’s not allowed.
When I went and got my car fixed, I ranted to the mechanic who did my transmission repair in Hobart. Apparently what my parents are doing isn’t uncommon. He said there was some name in car psychology for it, but I’ve forgotten what that is now. All I know is that I need to get my parents help, or I’ll never get to drive my car again.
I always thought that my dream house would have a lot of stone. Stone walls, stone floors, stone statues everywhere. I’ve always loved stone buildings, so naturally, I thought one would be for me. The last couple of years, though, I’ve had the honour of renting out a house made entirely out of stone. It has been a bit like living in a castle. Throughout this time, I’ve come to a startling conclusion: stone sucks. Why would anybody want to live in a building made of stone? It gets so cold during the winter. Whatever you do, never live in a stone house. It’s a terrible idea. Listen to my warning, or I promise you’ll regret it.
So, my new thing is glass houses. Yes, I know the saying about people in glass houses. Throw stones in a glass house and you’ll likely be calling up a business for commercial glazing more often than not. With a glass house, you’d need a bit more than your standard residential glazing, so commercial it would have to be. Anyway, I just think it would be really cool to live in a home where there are plenty of glass balustrades, glass ceilings and even glass walls. I’d have it on top of a big hill, overlooking a beautiful valley in the east, so I can watch the sunrise over it. That would be truly magnificent.
Alternatively, I could see a glass house working in a frozen tundra, perhaps near a mountain lake. Of course, there’s no beating glass balustrades in the Melbourne area, and we don’t have any frozen mountain lakes here, so that’s a bit of a problem. But I’m sure I could make it work. Maybe I could get some glass balustrades imported from Melbourne to whatever cold place I go to. Possibly somewhere in Scandinavia. That would be pretty cool. Oh, I wasn’t even meaning to make a pun there, but I guess it would be cool in both senses of the word. You know, because cool means cold… I’m sure you get it.
I’m not a huge fan of manual cars. In fact, I never have been. The only reason I drive a manual car is that when I first started driving ten years ago my dad insisted that I learn on a manual as he felt it would make me a better driver and I’d be in more control. I’m not sure how much it helped. The upside of it is I have more options when it comes to purchasing a car, but I do find I tend to take preference to purchase automatic cars. I find them much easier to drive and a lot less stressful. I understand why some people prefer manuals but when you’re already concentrating on driving safely and watching out for hazards I don’t see how being concerned about an extra pedal and keeping one hand off the steering wheel is helping you be a better driver. If anything, I’d say it’s too much multitasking.
For the last few months, I’ve been driving my dad’s old car but I’m starting to notice signs of brake and clutch failure. While driving the other day I noticed a very strange squealing and rumbling noise when applying pressure to the clutch. It also felt like the clutch pedal was sticking, which made it really difficult to change gears with ease. Then there was an incident earlier this morning when I was driving to work that felt like I had a momentary loss of acceleration and that my clutch was slipping.
I’ve decided to not drive this car for a few days and will take it to be looked at by a mechanic. Milperra has a mechanic that is not too far away. I’m hoping that this issue won’t be too costly and will be easy for the mechanic to sort out. This is another reason I’m not a fan of manual cars, it’s another thing that can go wrong.
I love to paint strange pictures. It’s my favourite hobby. I’ve been painting ever since I was old enough to hold a brush (arguably even earlier, if you count painting with food), and it has been my biggest passion ever since. I love to paint pictures of people doing their professions. Lately, I’ve been working on an artwork depicting a local mechanic, as he labours away underneath a fancy car. I drew the sketch as the mechanic performed brake repair, with his permission, of course. I have done a lot of similar paintings in my time, but this one may just be my favourite yet. That said, I usually think that about all the paintings I do.
Last year’s painting of the llama farmer was my favourite when I made it. I’d never painted a llama before, or a farmer, so it was the perfect combination. Then there was the painting of the clerk in a bookstore with flying books around her, a few years ago. I thought that was the best painting I’d ever done. But it is different this time. I could have chosen to paint the mechanic doing anything other than brake repair, but this has a special meaning to it. Why choose that over, let’s say, performing a logbook service? Close to Adelaide, there were plenty of mechanics willing to be painted, but I chose this one because he’s willing to do the grunt work and get dirty himself. The brakes are the one thing protecting drivers and passengers from a certain demise on the road, so this painting symbolises how mechanics save lives with their tireless, thankless work.
After this, I’m going to move onto a dream-inspired artwork, titled ‘Dreamcatcher’. I’ve had this one planned for quite a while, and I’m sure it’s going to become my best painting ever. Just like this one is. First, I need to focus on finishing ‘Life Saver’, my current best-ever painting.
Trent was a regular guy living a regular life, doing normal, boring things every day. The most interesting thing in his life was that he sometimes liked to go out on the river in his rowboat, singing the old nursery rhyme about rowing your boat while he rowed his boat. Trent was an odd fellow. One of the more frustrating things in his life was getting his boat out of his vehicle, once he got to the river. His boat was heavy and awkward. And then Trent had a brilliant idea. An idea so brilliant that it would be put in the book ‘Brilliant Ideas of Brilliance’. What if he was to invent a car that was also a rowboat? Trent immediately went to work, finding a reliable mechanic near Queanbeyan who could help bring his genius idea to life. Many people laughed at Trent when he told them of his plans, but oh, he would get the last laugh indeed.
In order to ensure that his idea would work, Trent built a prototype out of yarn. He spent many days making it, cutting yarn up and putting it together in the world’s first car-boat. Once it was done, he filled up his bathtub and let the invention out on the water. It floated! His idea really would work! Trent was so excited that he immediately began working on the real car-boat. Unfortunately, he was a bit delayed, because, in his excitement, Trent had an accident on the road and had to wait for a damaged car repair, before he could get all the pieces he needed.
It would be a car-boat that would drive along the highest mountains, on the steepest roads, and then transition seamlessly into the water. It would be one of the greatest inventions of all time. When everybody else saw how clever it was, they’d be asking him for one. Trent didn’t intend to share or sell his invention, though. No. It was his forever. With an engine that would work like a charm for boats and cars, and all the spare tyres he could possibly need, Trent was ready to give it a try.
Unfortunately, Trent was never seen again, so we don’t know whether it worked. However, it wouldn’t take a genius to guess that it didn’t.
Rowing boats? How am I supposed to write about rowing boats? And somehow I’ve got to combine it with car servicing? That’s ridiculous. They are two completely different forms of transportation. If Jen Randall (my boss) had asked me to write about logbook servicing or auto electrical work combined with something about car repair shops, I could totally do that. Somehow, I managed to write a few hundred words about chickens and renovations, but that was almost the end of me. I’m getting really sick of this randomly generated storytelling thing that we’ve started doing at my job. What happened to the good old days, where I could just write about whatever I wanted? Admittedly, the random generation idea was mine, because I was running out of ideas after several hundred stories, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it!
Honestly, I’d rather be writing about nuts and bolts than rowing boats. I just find rowing so boring. I don’t know anything about it, so I can’t write about it, let alone find a way to connect it to a piece about a workshop offering car service close to Adelaide. I guess I’ll just have to ramble on about cars, boats and maybe some bolts until I hit my allotted word count. If I’m feeling particularly uninspired, maybe I’ll also throw in some random words about cats and mice being friends. That’s what Kathy drew out of the random story hat. Why can’t I write about a cat and a mouse who are best friends, on their way to get their engine serviced? I feel like that would be a pretty interesting story. Certainly, more interesting than a story about a guy who wants to go out rowing but can’t because his car is broken, so he is unable to get out to the water. How uninspired!
Anyway, I should probably get onto it. I’ve been procrastinating on social media all afternoon, but I think I’ve just seen one picture of bananas that are made to look like ducks too many.
I won’t be going into detail about my business or business operations as they are highly confidential. However, what I can tell you is that we are in the business of protecting the good guys and outing the bad guys, that’s all I can say. To do this though, we need an office space that is private and won’t reveal who is on the premises to anyone that isn’t supposed to know.
Everyone we deal with we and everything we do is confidential, which is why we need commercial glass tinting. Melbourne office workers seem to think that tinting is considered normal. After all, we don’t need people snooping around trying to check out what we do. We want to appear to the outside world as if we’re a normal business with normal day-to-day operations, which is why ensuring that all the windows and glass walls in the building are tinted.
I’ve been given the tough task of finding a business that does commercial tinting. It’s a big responsibility because we will have to let this business inside our office, and they will see things that we don’t want them to see. It’s one of those situations where if there’s no pain there’s no gain, and in this case installing commercial decorative glass is the pain and complete privacy is the gain.
I will not tell any of you what my job title is, but my role involves some detective work. That’s why they’ve listed me as the main person for the job. I need to make sure that the glass tinters meet all our requirements or they will not be able to step into our building. If I make the wrong call and think the tinters are trustworthy when they are not, then I will be at fault and could potentially ruin our entire operation and lose my job in the process. Luckily I get paid a lot of money to make these tough calls.
You know, I bet my ancestors never expected the Black-Viper line to end up in a shop for glass replacement. We’re a proud family, dating all the way back to the 1400s, when my many times’ great grandfather created the name, after accidentally slaying the King of England. That put his father as king, meaning I am directly descended from royalty. The original Eddy Black-Viper tried to usurp his father many times, without any success, something only talked about in his diary, passed down through the generations.
What would Eddy Black-Viper the First think of me, knowing someone who runs Melbourne’s best glass replacement shop? Would he be proud, or would he be ashamed that I’m not coming up with cunning plans to overthrow the local ruler and take his place? I like to think he’d be proud of the success his line has achieved, even if it isn’t political.
Certainly, I think Eddy Black-Viper II would be proud of me. He was a hard-working Lord of the British Court, under Queen Elizabeth the First. I know that it’s a far way from lord to the glazier, but Black-Viper II was highly respected in his time. In fact, if he and the queen hadn’t been horribly slain by a master of disguise, they might have become married. I suppose if that was the case, then I probably wouldn’t know someone who fixes glass balustrades around Melbourne, so I guess I should be glad.
Eddy Black-Viper III was a butler to Prince George of Wales, son of King George III. Few people know this, but Black-Viper III actually took George’s place after his untimely demise, becoming King George IV. That’s right, my ancestor was actually a British king. How his descendants ended up as a captain in World War II and a glass glazier remains a mystery. Just to think, I have two ancestors who came so close to taking the throne of England, and one who succeeded. How did I end up here? But alas, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
– Edward Black-Viper V
It’s a miracle. A absolute miracle. I simply can’t believe it. A couple of months ago, as you may recall, dear reader, I was complaining about how we have a serious lack of space in our office. Against all odds, I’ve actually managed to find some more space to put our things! There’s a secret room in the back of the office, hidden behind a bookshelf. I don’t think this room has been used in years, but that doesn’t matter. It’s space to store the new stuff we’re having delivered here!
I think we could fit as many as six or seven new things in here. That’s a whole month’s worth of things! Last month we didn’t have any space to put these new things, but it seems we do have space now. I didn’t even need to get an office designer from Melbourne to make space for me. I just stumbled upon this extra space during my lunch break. My mind is blown.
I was genuinely ready to give up on finding space to store all our stuff. “We just have too much stuff, and it’s not sustainable,” I said. That’s still true, especially since we aren’t buying more office space anymore. Next month we probably will need to get office fitouts. Melbourne has plenty of available office buildings where we could store more stuff, but unfortunately, we haven’t been given the budget to buy the space we need.
I’d love to use some of the space we have to store my own stuff, but I’m pretty sure that would be against company policy. It would be really helpful if I could, but I definitely understand why it’s not allowed. If I’m storing my own stuff on here, then everybody else in the office will want to as well, and before we know it the stuff-storing police will show up and penalise us. We definitely don’t want that, as our storage space is super valuable, and also a bit secret. We don’t want to attract any unwanted attention or anything.
Dear William Jr. If you are reading this, you should have just gotten the most wonderful log book service in Adelaide. Now, I require you to drive to New South Wales. I know geography was never your strongest subject in regular school, so that is the state above Victoria. If you want to take the next step toward your inheritance, you must get brake and clutch repair in Milperra. Once you have done that, the seal on the next letter shall be opened. Good luck.
I read the letter outside while waiting for the final touches on my car to be done. The trembling in my hands had finally stopped, but I couldn’t shake the ill-feeling in the pit of my stomach. Could the worst actually be true? Three auto workshops in three different states. That couldn’t be some sort of tax evasion scheme. Surely it wasn’t even money laundering. No, the truth was becoming clear. My billionaire father was once a working-class man.
The thought disgusted me, almost as foul as garlic to my senses. How could he have been a working-class peasant, when he had always claimed to come from a family with immense wealth? Admittedly, I’ve never actually been able to meet any of my family members, and there are no photos of them. But why would my father lie about his heritage?
Well, no matter how much I hate the thought, I need to travel to this Milperra mechanic and discover the truth. If my father truly did come from the working class, I have to discover why he hid it from me all these years.
So many years have I looked down on the peasants. And now I learn that I might be one of them. I shudder at the thought. Perhaps I should just get this whole thing over with as quickly as possible, and then I can move on, with my billions of dollars to comfort me as I absorb the entire thing.
– Will Hunter