Tag: chainsxwsmile

The giant shark tilted his head at the plexiglass spectacles, eyeing them up with a hesitant expression. “Ye think there’s one in m’ size? Don’t ‘xactly ‘ave a human face,” Bruce began. Even though he was partially away that the Repairman could pull just about anything from his hammer space. Apart from an escape route.

“Well, that’s all right,” the Repairman said. “Lots of people don’t have human faces. I don’t.”

He pulled out another pair that looked identical to his. With a few clicks, the goggles were elongated and curved into something that would easily fit a shark.

“And that’s why I choose Ajax for all my protective eyewear needs!” the Repairman said, as if he was reading a script. He held his hand out as a ten dollar bill drifted onto it, seemingly out of nowhere.

“You ready?” he asked Bruce, holding out the adjusted glasses.

“Ah, I guess so,” the great white replied hesitantly. “Was thinkin’ more ‘long the lines that ye saw out a lil’ piece ‘f the door and I pull ‘part the metal with m’ teeth.” Bruce glanced down reluctantly at the tool. “Never really handled anythin’ sharp b’fore. Other than m’ teeth,” he chuckled nervously. 

“Ah,” the Repairman said, somewhat embarrassed at his misunderstanding. “Well, that makes more sense.”

He snapped off a length of the handle, reducing it to its original size.

As he turned to the door, he realized he forgot something. He went back to his cart and picked out a pair of protective glasses.

“You need a pair?” he asked Bruce.

“Still, I’d ‘ate to be the one who caused it, even if ye can shake it off in a beat or two,” the great white insisted before his eyes studied the saw fastened into the other’s grip. The shark arches a brow, though he learned a long time ago to not question logic too often in Toontown. Logic, physics, and all sorts of usual rules were bent, broken, and shattered beyond the tunnel walls. 

“Think a lil’ saw like that’s gonna help?” Bruce asked. “If ye get it warped out a bit for me to get a grip with my jaws, I can be ‘f more help.”

“Oh?”

The Repairman was a bit surprised at the idea of Bruce handling this saw. Still, it made sense; the great white was probably stronger and could push the saw further.

“All right,” he decided, “hang on a sec.”

He began to pull at the handle a bit, and then his hands became a blur. Faint balloon noises could be heard.

When the inkblot finally stopped, the handle was far larger, and rounded out to fit a shark’s mouth.

He held the saw out to Bruce, handle-first.

“This work?”

“Think we should just plug ‘em all back in, or do ye reckon that’ll take the whole underpass down?” Bruce asked, grimacing at the thought before glancing about his surroundings at the other’s inquiry. “Ah, aye! It’s up ‘ere. Ye want me to toss it down to ye? Unless ye’ve got somethin’ fragile in there I should know ‘bout…”

“Yeah,” the Repairman replied, “I don’t think we can. I forgot which wire was which, anyway.”

“Um,” he continued, eyeing the robots, “…I think I’ll just head back up.”

As he began his ascent, he was blocked by another white glove. This one was holding a non-copyright-specific cleaning pad, and it was clear it noticed the Repairman.

“On second thought,” the inkblot said, trying not to sound distressed, “could you drop the red toolbox down here?”

The great white nodded, even though the other couldn’t quite see his reaction. The shark turned around, investigating his surroundings but not touching any device or even any walls lest the machinery accidentally roar to life and result in them being trapped further. 

“Think we can use the arms to pry open the tunnel?” Bruce suggested, calling back into the tin can. 

“Maybe…” the Repairman said, thinking about it. “…Except I don’t think they’ll listen to us. All the arm controls were unplugged.”

If he had had feet (or been on the ground, for that matter), he would have shuffled them. How was he to know? Well, they were labeled, but still.

A thought occurred to him.

“Wait,” the Repairman asked, “Did I leave my cart up there?”

The shark blinked, glancing down at the tin can which emitted a clear, echoing sound of the other’s voice. Granted, it probably wasn’t the weirdest thing he had witnessed in Toontown, or the outskirts. It certainly didn’t even reach close to the list. 

“Ye seen anythin’ down there?” the great white asked, making sure to avoid shouting into the tin can. 

The Repairman looked around (thankfully, his siren light was still blinking). Black wires snaked down the tunnel, which forked every which way. A couple of white-gloved robotic hands could be seen doing something far below, though they were too .

“Looks like I have some paths to try,” the inkblot finally said into the can. “There’s a couple to the left and a lower one to the right.”

After looking down again, he added, “And I think we should keep an eye on those robot hands. I’m not sure what they’re doing…”

He remembered unplugging all the wires for the arm controls. Why were these still moving?

The great white blinked, curiously nudging the empty tin can with the tip of his pectoral fin. “Tin can phone? Never ‘eard ‘f ‘em, sorry. Can’t say I’ve ‘ad the time to come through the loonier part of the hand-drawn district everyday. More so, it’s just a route to get from ‘ere to there. Never really stopped to see what anyone was doin’… apart from ‘em all screamin’ and runnin’ ‘way from me,” he added with an abashed chuckle. 

Humoring the Repairman, though, the great white dipped his head closer to the open end of the can. “’ow do ye use it? Like a phone? Reckon that’d explain the name…” he mused. “As long as I keep a fairly good distance- a half meter or more- from the magnet, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Heh,” the Repairman replied, looking back down into the inner workings, “I see. Yeah, it’s just a phone.”

He spoke into his can.

“Testing, testing…Okay, just act like it’s a normal phone, you don’t need to get too close to it…”

And with that, he began to climb down again. He was hoping his attempts to fix the doors didn’t affect the robotic arms he was too much…

The great white tilted his head as the other pulled the magnet from his hammerspace and set it against the floor. “What d’ye think I should do with this?” Bruce asked, gliding closer towards the hold where the Repairman fell and dipping his head closer to catch sight of the other Toon in the darkness. “Might frizz up m’ electroreceptors gettin’ close to it, but I s’ppose ye reckon it’s necessary, eh?”

The Repairman stopped his descent and looked up.

“You’ve never seen a tin can phone?” he asked. “It’s so we can talk. I only have the magnet there to keep your end up. Wouldn’t want it to slip.”

He paused. Electroreceptors? He had no idea what those were, but they sounded important. Still, their means of communicating needed securing, and the Repairman doubted Bruce could hold the can, being a more realistic shark. 

“If it’ll mess you up,” he called, “we need another way to keep the can up there. Any ideas?”