John's Bright Idea

“I can’t think with all this noise,” said John, arms down at his side and a frown on his face.

“Well John, you’re just going to have to ignore those sounds as best you can,” said Tonya, his assistant.

John walked over to his workbench slowly and scratched his head as he examined the heap of junk before him. He rummaged through the pile, looking for anything he could use.

“No,” John said, tossing some scrap on the floor, “this simply won’t do.”

“There must be something useful in there!” Tonya exclaimed.

John paced across the room, deep in thought, and obviously perturbed by the futility of not finding the right parts for the job. Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he raised his hand in a motion of excitement.

“I got it!” John shouted,

“Got what?” his assistant replied.

“An idea,” John said.

“Well, what is it?” Tonya asked with a hint of pessimism on her face.

John walked back to the scrap pile silently, took a handful of metallic junk, and brought it over to the furnace which was burning red hot. He tossed it into the furnace without a word, then grabbed a nearby mold which was shaped almost like a duck. He placed the mold under the spout and watched in glee as molten metal began to pour out into the mold.

“See!” John shouted, “anything can be repurposed to fit our needs.”

“How is that duck-shaped thing going to help us?” Tonya blurted.

John picked up a pair of metal tongs from a rack nearby and handed them to Tonya, who looked surprised,

“Carefully pick up that mold with those tongs and bring it over to that bucket of water, will you?

“This better not burn me,” Tonya nodded in disbelief, “or I’ll kill you.”

She did as he asked, but halfway to the bucket a fly landed on her cheek, causing her to swat at it, losing grip of the tongs as they fell to the floor, shattering the mold into a million tiny pieces.

“Tonya dear, are you alright?” John asked sincerely, rubbing his palms together.

“Yes, I don’t think any pieces hit me.” Tonya replied, a look of bewilderment in her eyes.

“Well, that was my only mold, so it seems our plan has fallen apart.” John stated bluntly.

“Oh my,” said Tonya, adjusting her skirt, “what will we do now?”

John fidgeted with his fingers nervously for a moment, then swept back his dark blonde hair with one hand. He paced back and forth while holding his chin until something struck him.

“Eureka!” exclaimed John, pointing a finger in the air.

“You’ve thought of something John?” Tonya inquired, “Let’s hear it.”

John reached over to a dustpan and broom which were hanging on the wall and proceeded over to the bits of metal scattered across the floor. He quickly scooped up all the tiny pieces in smooth motions until everything was collected neatly in the dustpan. He hung the broom back in its place then brought the dustpan full of pieces back to the furnace. He set down the dustpan carefully as to not let any of the contents slip out, then procured a stone bowl from a shelf near the furnace. He laid the bowl down under the spout and emptied the dustpan into the fiery hot kiln. The metal pieces and bits of mold instantly liquified and drained into the stone bowl, waiting below.

Tonya looked puzzled, crossing her arms as if someone had told her an off-color joke.

“What is that bowl full of crud supposed to do for us?” she questioned, staring directly into John’s eyes.

“Well, once this cools down and solidifies, we’ll have something to hold fluids,” he replied.

“But that will take hours,” Tonya whined, clutching her dress and stomping her foot.

“Enough of that noise, we will just have to find something to do in the meantime,” John rebutted.

John searched through an old cupboard until he emerged a few minutes later holding a boardgame covered in dust. He blew the dust off the box then removed the top, laying it down on the only table in the room. He slowly extracted the playing board with all the pieces, cards, and tokens, displaying them appropriately on opposite sides of the table.

“Have a seat,” said John politely, gesturing his hand towards the empty chair.

Tonya sat down as John finished setting up the game for both of them.

“What piece would you like to play as?” asked John, “There’s a cow, a rooster, a sheep, a hay bale, or a donkey.”

“I’ll be the hay bale, I don’t like animals,” she remarked snidely.

“Okay then, I’ll take the chicken” he responded.

They took turns rolling the dice and moving their pieces along the board. They chatted as they played, about everything from travel destinations to the latest fashion trends.

“The time sure is flying by!” John laughed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

“Just like you said it would,” Tonya acquiesced, tumbling the dice cupped in her small hands.

She let them fly across the board with a little too much force, and they fell to the ground with a barely audible thud. John stared at the dice with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Are you going to pick them up, or what?” said Tonya, lifting her hands in an exaggerated shrug.

“No,” John said sarcastically, “I’m just going to leave them there.”

“C’mon John, stop playing,” she whined.

“I need to think for a moment,” he replied, obviously stalling.

“What do you need to think about? Just pick up the fucking dice!” Tonya impatiently exclaimed.

“What if they landed there for a reason, and by picking them up, I disturb some kind of balance in the universe?” John retorted.

“What the fuck are you on about, John?” Tonya disclosed, tugging at her jacket.

“Oh, nothing,” said John dismissively, reaching down towards the dice.

“Wait,” he said, stopping mid-reach, “should we count the numbers as they landed, or roll them again?”

Tonya, annoyed by this question, said nothing, folded her arms, then got up from her chair, striding away from the table, leaving John to agonize over his dice conundrum.