Fractions for fun - 2. You don't know Jack

Is this thing on? Hello? Hello?!? It’s recording now? So I can start? Bloody idiots… Why have fancy cameras and stuff if you can’t handle them? People these days…

Well, hi. I guess you’re wondering why you’re staring at my ugly mug? To be honest, I’m sort of wondering that myself. Why the hell did I agree to do this? Maybe in the no doubt vain hope that someone will make something honest for once. That someone will listen to the ones who actually know what they’re talking about. Get a break from all the nonsense fluff we get spoon-fed every day.

The secret life of tools… What kind of show would that be? Sounds like the usual Disney crap to me. Who in their right mind would be interested in that? But I’ll give it a shot, since you assured me it’s serious and you need the input. So here goes.

The name’s Jack. Yeah, yeah, yeah… Someone had a sense of humor. Or should I say “humor”? I know I ain’t laughing. Been in the business for too many years for that.

Crap, my nose itches. Hey, lend a guy a hand, will you? Just on the tip there. That’s right. Yeah, just like that. It sucks not having arms, you know. You’d think the manufacturer would think of something, but no. Not “practical”. I wonder how practical it is to let us slowly lose our minds from not being able to scratch a simple itch. But anything to save a few bucks, huh? We’re only tools, meant to be used until we break.

As for your show, my life isn’t so secret. No big mysteries. I’m just me. Always been pretty straightforward ever since I left the factory, seeing the world slightly fuzzy through my plastic packaging and being so eager to get out there and make a mark on the world.

No, not a dent. Don’t try to be funny. Because you’re not. If I hear one of those jokes one more time… “You really hit the nail on the head!” Hardy har har… Or the idiots who start singing how they’d rather be a hammer than a nail. Well, of course you would. What idiot would want to be a nail? Spend eternity in a wall? At least, people rarely have pan flutes handy. That would really suck.

And before you go there; yes, I can touch this. I assure you it’s no problem for me. In fact, I was designed to touch things hard and repeatedly.

By the way, are you certain this program will have no affiliation with that terrible kids’ show, Handy Manny? OK, I just have to make sure. There’s another song I can’t stand. As if we can fix anything simply because we are tools. There are limits! Not all things broken can be fixed again. Sometimes, things stay broken…

Damn, my head hurts… Sorry. It’s just been a long day. Put up way too many walls today. And that new apprentice the owner took on isn’t exactly gentle. For some reason he blames me for all the times he hits himself on his thumb. Calls me unbalanced. I’m not unbalanced, kid! I’ve never been unbalanced! Not my fault he’s all thumbs and can’t be bothered to learn proper technique. And the owner got a new guy he likes to play with now. One of those fancy hammers. Stuck up as fuck. As if you actually need a shock reduction grip and an all stainless-steel construction to get the job done. What’s wrong with fiberglass? It’s worked very well for years, thank you very much. But new is apparently better. I should have seen it coming. Stupid of me to expect something more after doing my best for so long.

But that’s reality in the tool box, you know. We get replaced. I’ve seen many other tools come and go. Those saws are such delicate creatures. Always coming in so high and mighty. “I’m dangerous. Look at me! I can cut you!” And I’m like, “Give it a few weeks and you won’t be so cocky.” Turns out, I’m always right. Fancy that. They need to be retired after just a few months, all dull and depressed. But I’m still here. Dependable, stable, uncomplicated.

Uncomplicated… If they only knew. I may look simple enough but that’s because no one takes the time to get to know me.

Whatever. I just want to get somewhat comfortable in the tool box and catch some Z’s.

I guess I’m not really who you should talk to. This show of yours probably needs a more upbeat attitude. Even though I’m a hammer, it’s not really me. Upbeat? Get it? Beat…? Ugh, never mind. Talk to the screwdriver. He could be just what you’re looking for. He’ll show you the fun side to being a tool. Be prepared for his obnoxious jokes, though. If he asks me one more time if I fancy a screw, I’ll go nuts. As if I’d want to have anything to do with his skinny ass. I may be single, but I have standards.

Perhaps I’m just fed up. Things haven’t been the same since Sledge got put on permanent field duty. Damn those sheep for breaking down the fences all the time. There’s a true friend, a guy you can rely on. No nonsense, what you see is what you get. Things were so easy with Sledge. Late at night, we would lie on our backs, stare up at the sky and just be. Side by side, resting our heads next to each other, sometimes touching. Just two guys, sharing a small space in a tool box. You get close, you know, spending that much time together. It’s like your true self escapes when you’re tired and almost asleep. It was a comfort, something to look forward to while working all day. Sledge was always there for me, to listen to me rambling and then make it all better.

Well, that’s in the past. I have the life I have. No use in reminiscing. What do you mean “feelings”? Why would I have “feelings” for Sledge? I’m not sure I like what you’re implying. Feelings are for fools. Not tools.