Car W_sh
I swear I'm going to get my driver's licence soon.
The car slowed to a pillowed stop.
Her mind, however, was still in motion, reeling from what the sign in the garage window had read. She had driven past this garage almost every day since moving to this side of town and hadn’t paid it much mind. Until today, that is.
She inhaled deeply through her nose, flattening her diaphragm then releasing the breath slowly through her mouth. She took in the canopy above her that attached to the workshop then rolled her window down by a quarter as the mechanic approached. A greasy boiler suit that might’ve been white and red at one point hung from his knobbly shoulders.
“I bid you good morrow madam, nice car you’ve got there!” Said the mechanic with a benign smile and a raspy voice.
That’s a weird greeting but it’s not the worst that I’ve gotten. Also, my car is only a red 2012 Ford Fiesta but okay…
“Why, thank you kindly. It’s something of a family heirloom. Firstborn privilege and whatnot,” She replied.
He strolled around the outskirts of the car, lapping up its resplendence. She hated it.
I really do.
It made her feel like a zoo exhibit.
It really does.
In fact, that’ll be the first thing that I choose to rid the world of; the ability to look at me without express permission.
He completed his obligatory scan and returned to the driver side window, putting the smile back on.
“So what can I do for you today? Your car looks pretty spiffy and it purred good when you pulled into the yard.” The second sentence seemed to have a smidge of smugness to it.
She stumbled on her words for a second, causing his smile to curl up at the ends like the Grinch.
“I saw your sign and I’m interested in having that service done.” She said, clearing her throat and gesturing toward the garage window. “It’s just what I need,” She continued, “Sounds like a dream come true if anything,”
The smile on the mechanic’s face shifted and confusion took its place. His eyebrows scrunched together in a pursing motion. “Not to be that guy ma’am—your car, your choice after all—but that might be a waste of money considering the fine state of your motor.” The gummy grin slid back on to face.
He must’ve seen the tempest brewing in her mind because without halt, he sped into the garage and returned with a car wash menu. It boasted three tiers—three whole tiers!—of car wash services ranging from bronze to gold to platinum. She opted for the bronze as it was a mere £8 and took the least amount of time. She was eager for her prize and rightfully so.
She walked towards the pub next door to indulge in a ploughman’s sandwich while the mechanic brought over his cleaning artillery, the bucket sloshing water that was yet to grey.
Maybe I’ll grant everyone a per diem of one ploughman’s, scratch that, two ploughman’s sandwiches a day. That sounds fair.
She heard a melodious car horn as she swigged the dregs of her apple juice. Ooo, that would be a good one too, unlimited apple juice for all. Wait, that makes three requests though. Maybe they’ll let me lump the ploughman’s sandwich and apple juice together like a meal deal. She rose, bid the patron adieu and merrily skip-stepped to her freshly done up car. The sough carried the scent of honeydew melon suds to her nose. She felt like she was floating on air à la looney tunes.
She handed the mechanic a crisp £10 note with a smile, telling him to keep the change.
He explained the car servicing that he had gone through—not that she cared one bit about that—while she smiled and nodded. After detailing the glass polishing process, he asked, “Will there be anything else that we can provide you with today?” This simple question conjured a joyous anxiety within her.
It’s almost time.
She looked up at the mechanic and replied with a wink, “Just one more thing,” The mechanic stood a little bit taller, a carnivorous grin stretching across his thin lips as he asked, “And what might that be?”
The driver—My name is Heather by the way, I am a full-fledged human being after all.—Yes, I apologise Heather.
Heather returned his Cheshire grin, “A lamp to rub, of course!”
The mechanic—I don’t even remember his name so…—Yes, the mechanic shifted slightly and guffawed softly as confusion spread across his face. Heather’s grin shrank slowly. “Sorry madam, I’m afraid that your joke has sailed clear over my head.”
“A lamp to rub so I can speak to the genie…”
“I can’t lie, I’m even more confused now.”
“Your sign. You literally have a sign advertising it.”
“Oh, my bad! It must’ve been put on display overnight and I haven’t noticed it yet. Can you show me where it is?”
Heather spun on her heels with urgency and stalked her way to the front of the garage. She planted her feet and pointed a maraschino’d nail at the sign displayed in the window then donned a prideful expression.
“Oh…,” The mechanic started, “That’s been there since we opened actually, I’m unsure where you’re getting the whole genie and lamp thing from though.”
Oh this. Oh that. Now, he wants to play dumb? Jokes on him, men always play dumb when they’ve been caught out so he’s just proven me right.
“How did I get a genie and lamp from that? Let me read the sign aloud to you then you decide. It says ‘C A R W _ S H’, that’s pretty obvious. Car Wish.” Heather crossed her arms, looking pleased with herself.
The mechanic tried his hardest to stifle his laugh, but it ballooned inside of him and burst forth with a spattering of spittle. He turned bright red as tears threatened to run down his face and his belly began to ache. Heather stood patiently waiting for him to quit the charade.
The mechanic caught his breath after a minute or two, “Oh, you sure are a hoot madam, you almost had me fooled for a second there. Car Wish. That’s a good one.”
Heather spoke silently, “It doesn’t not say car wish so I don’t get what’s so funny.”
“What’s so funny is the fact that you played it so seriously. The sign is clearly meant to say Car Wash.”
Heather stalked back to her car, an air of annoyance emanating from her. “Wait, Miss, I’ll throw in a free air freshener, you’ve made my week.” The mechanic handed her a cherry scented fibreboard tree. Cherry scented things are such a lie, they’re the olfactory equivalent of banana flavoured things. She placed it on her dashboard and grimaced as she drove out of the yard. The mechanic waved as he watched her leave.
“And then she said ‘Car Wish’,” A familiar weaselly voice said before it began to cackle. The sound of a knee being slapped rang out before the laugh cut off abruptly.
“Are you a fool? Did I raise you to find such things amusing?” Grumbled a sonorous voice, “No, don’t even begin to utter an excuse for this behaviour. This could have gone sour in a split second, you do understand that, right? Nod if you understand.
“Okay, good. I apologise for being so severe, it’s just that you know we can’t have humans finding out about us. You remember what happened last time? That whole debacle with—”
Heather burst through the door of the manager’s office, she had a ploughman’s sandwich in her hand and a big ‘fuck you, pay me’ smile on her face. A tanned grizzly of a man in a trucker hat sat behind a cream coloured desk. The desk was bare apart from a chunky desktop and keyboard in one corner. And on the other corner of the desk sat a triumphant miniature flag consisting of a tricolour alongside a triangle. A ten foot version of the flag hung behind the man.
The man sighed and flashed a glare at the mechanic before standing and making his way towards Heather. She stood defiantly as he approached. I’m getting my wishes if it’s the last damn thing I do! The man stopped a foot from where Heather was and sighed again.
“The name’s Jann,” He said, stretching an open palm towards her. “Fair is fair. We’ll grant three of your wishes. What will the first be?”
“I wish for everyone in the world to receive a per diem of two ploughman’s sandwiches.”
Jann itched at his eyebrow, “I don’t know what a ploughman’s sandwich is…”
“Really? You have to try one. Come with me, they do a great one next door. Homemade chutney and all,”
They walked out of the office chirping away as both quizzed each other about their lives. The mechanic grumbled as he locked up the garage and hastened to catch up to them. As he neared them, he noticed Heather’s car sitting in the pub parking lot.
“Wow. Just wow. In all my years of being on this earth, never have my taste buds scintillated so. These sandwiches are great, two more barmaid, if you will! Two more for my friend as well. And my son. You know, I think they’d be even better with a complementary glass of apple juice.”
“Oh, Jann, I couldn’t have worded it better.”
I remember now! The mechanic’s name was Jean. Ha ha.