Inanimate Objects Understood - 2. Chapter 2-Stanley the HammerMe

Walter Briggs had a habit that some people found rather unusual. He named his tools.

His six-foot ladder was Larry, his trusty hammer was Stanley, and his two ten-foot measuring tapes were Mutt and Jeff.

Mutt was the wider, black Black & Decker measuring tape, while Jeff was an older, skinnier yellow one.

Walter had no idea that his tools had personalities of their own—or that they could carry on entire conversations whenever he wasn't around.

One afternoon, Walter decided to tackle a repair project around the house. He gathered several tools and placed them on his workbench.

Stanley was especially excited.

"Finally!" Stanley declared as soon as Walter stepped away. "A job that requires some real muscle!"

"Don't get carried away," Larry the Ladder replied from his place against the wall. "You haven't even seen what Walter's fixing yet."

"Doesn't matter," Stanley said proudly. "I'm a hammer. Whatever it is, I'll nail it!"

Mutt gave a little metallic click.

"That's assuming Walter measures everything correctly first."

Jeff extended his yellow tape a few inches.

"Exactly! Measure twice, hammer once!"

Stanley groaned.

"Walter named those two Mutt and Jeff. Personally, I think he should've named them Trouble and Double Trouble!"

Mutt snapped his tape back into his case.

"At least Walter can count on us!"

"And measure up to us!" Jeff added.

Larry chuckled.

"Would somebody please tell these two to quit stretching the truth?"

Stanley looked toward the workshop ceiling.

"See what I have to put up with?"

The entire workbench erupted in laughter.

Stanley waited until everyone settled down before clearing his throat.

"Now, as I was saying, a hammer is one of the most important tools in any workshop."

"Here we go," Larry muttered.

"Without a hammer," Stanley continued, "how would Walter drive nails?"

"With a nail gun," Jeff suggested.

Stanley went silent.

Mutt burst out laughing.

Larry nearly rattled against the wall.

"That," Stanley announced indignantly, "was completely unnecessary!"

"Just measuring your reaction," Jeff replied.

"Well, measure somebody else's!"

At that moment, the workshop door began to open.

Every tool immediately fell silent.

Walter Briggs stepped inside, looked around his workbench, and reached for Stanley.

"Come on, old buddy," Walter said. "We've got work to do."

Stanley couldn't have been prouder.

As Walter carried him out of the workshop, Stanley managed one final whisper.

"Did you hear that? He called me his buddy!"

From the corner, Larry whispered back, "Don't let it go to your head. You've only got one!"

And once again, the workshop struggled to contain its laughter.

Walter Briggs had been hired to completely redo a room in an older house. He had already installed the wall studs, but several needed a little more work before he could move on to the next stage.

He set his toolbox down, examined the framing, and picked up Stanley.

"All right, Stanley, old buddy. Let's get these studs finished."

Stanley practically beamed with pride.

"Did you hear that, everybody? He needs ME!"

Of course, Walter couldn't hear a word.

Walter positioned a nail against the wood, raised Stanley, and swung.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three perfect strikes.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Stanley declared. "Precision! Power! Professional craftsmanship!"

Walter moved to the next stud.

BANG! BANG!

Another perfect nail.

"Beautiful!" Stanley congratulated himself. "I ought to charge extra for this kind of performance!"

Then Walter positioned another nail, raised Stanley, and swung.

WHACK!

"YEOWWW!"

Walter dropped Stanley and grabbed his thumb.

Stanley landed on the floor with a clatter.

"WHAT" WAS THAT?!" Stanley shouted. "Walter! I'm supposed to hit the NAIL, not your THUMB!"

Walter shook his hand.

"Son of a biscuit! That hurt!"

Stanley looked up from the floor.

"Well, don't blame me! You're the one steering!"

After a minute, Walter picked Stanley up again.

"All right, buddy. Let's try that again."

Stanley sighed.

"Fine. But this time, keep your thumb out of my workplace!"

Walter positioned another nail.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Perfect.

"See?" Stanley announced. "When the operator cooperates, the equipment performs beautifully!"

A few minutes later, Walter missed again.

WHACK!

"OUCH!"

Stanley groaned.

"AGAIN?! Walter, you've got TEN fingers! Are you trying to reduce your inventory?"

Walter stood there blowing on his thumb.

Stanley muttered, "At this rate, we're going to finish the room with nine fingers and a very nervous hammer!"

Meanwhile, back in the workshop, Larry leaned toward Mutt and Jeff.

"I wonder how Stanley's doing."

Mutt extended his tape a few inches.

"Probably bragging about how perfectly he drives nails."

Jeff chuckled.

"Or measuring how far Walter can throw him!"

Larry laughed.

"Knowing Stanley, he'll come back claiming he did all the work himself!"

And several miles away, Stanley was staring at Walter's sore thumb.

"Listen, Walter," Stanley whispered, "I love working with you, but could we PLEASE stop using your hand as a practice board?"

Walter looked down at his throbbing thumb and shook his head.

"You know something, Stanley? I believe I'd better start paying attention to what I'm doing."

Stanley nearly jumped for joy.

"HALLELUJAH! He's finally figured it out!"

Walter repositioned the nail, carefully moved his thumb out of the way, and raised Stanley.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Perfect!

"YES!" Stanley shouted. "That's it, Walter! Keep your eyes on the nail and your thumb out of the danger zone!"

For the remainder of the afternoon, Walter worked steadily, making sure every nail went exactly where it belonged.

Not once did Stanley strike his thumb again.

By the time Walter finished working on the studs, Stanley was feeling pretty confident.

"Well, would you look at that!" Stanley announced. "A whole afternoon without a single thumb casualty! I believe my training program is working!"

When Walter returned home, he placed Stanley on the workbench beside Larry, Mutt, and Jeff.

"Well?" Larry asked. "How'd it go?"

Stanley sighed dramatically.

"Let me tell you something. That man nearly wore his thumb out before he figured out how to use me properly!"

Mutt clicked his tape.

"How many times did he hit it?"

"Twice!" Stanley replied. "And I was innocent both times!"

Jeff chuckled.

"Did you finally straighten him out?"

"Absolutely!" Stanley declared. "By the end of the day, he was hammering like a professional!"

Larry leaned against the wall.

"Well, congratulations, Stanley. You've successfully trained your human."

Stanley puffed up with pride.

"Thank you! Thank you very much!"

Unfortunately, Stanley's confidence lasted only until the following morning.

Walter returned to the job site, picked up Stanley, and examined the plywood he needed to fasten in place.

"All right, old buddy. Today we're putting up plywood."

Stanley was delighted.

"Plywood! Wonderful! Nice, flat plywood! What could possibly go wrong?"

Walter positioned the first nail.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Perfect.

The second nail went in just as smoothly.

Stanley was practically singing.

"Oh, we're hammering along, we're hammering along, and nobody's thumb is getting—"

WHACK!

"YEEEEOWWW!"

Walter dropped Stanley and grabbed his thumb.

Stanley landed on a scrap of plywood.

There was a long silence.

Then Stanley spoke.

"You have GOT to be kidding me!"

Walter danced around the room, shaking his hand.

"Oww! Dadgum it!"

Stanley stared at him.

"WALTER! WE WENT OVER THIS YESTERDAY!"

Walter examined his thumb.

Stanley continued his lecture.

"Yesterday we had studs. Today we have plywood. Different wood, SAME THUMB!"

Walter sat down on an overturned bucket.

"Boy, that smarts!"

Stanley groaned.

"Of course it smarts! You've been introducing your thumb to my hammerhead without an appointment!"

After a few minutes, Walter picked Stanley up again.

"All right, let's try this one more time."

Stanley sounded thoroughly exhausted.

"Fine. But before we start, I'd like to request a safety meeting."

Walter positioned another nail.

Stanley whispered, "Thumb clear?"

Walter moved his hand.

"Eyes on the nail?"

Walter raised the hammer.

"Brain engaged?"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Perfect!

Stanley sighed with relief.

"Thank goodness! I was beginning to think we needed to put a hard hat on his thumb!"

By lunchtime, Walter had made good progress on the plywood without another mishap.

Stanley rested on the workbench, exhausted.

"I don't understand humans," he muttered. "They invented hammers, they invented nails, and they invented plywood. But apparently, nobody invented a way to remind Walter where his thumb is!"

Walter picked up his sandwich and looked over at Stanley.

"You're a good old hammer, Stanley."

Stanley softened.

"Aw, thanks, Walter. You're not so bad yourself."

Then he added quietly:

"But tomorrow, could we please work on something that doesn't involve your fingers?"

Walter finished his sandwich, looked at the plywood, and then looked down at his sore thumb.

He shook his head.

"Well, Stanley, I believe I need to sit here for a little while and figure something out."

He leaned back against the wall, holding his thumb up in front of his face.

"How in the world am I going to stop hitting this poor thumb?"

Stanley, resting on the workbench, immediately perked up.

"Oh, good! A planning session! I've been waiting two days for this!"

Walter continued talking to himself.

"I've been using a hammer for years. You'd think by now I'd know how to hit a nail without hitting myself!"

Stanley sighed.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Walter studied his thumb.

"Maybe I'm holding the nail wrong."

"There's a possibility!" Stanley replied.

"Or maybe I'm swinging too fast."

"Another excellent observation!"

Walter scratched his head.

"Or maybe I just need to slow down and pay attention."

Stanley nearly rolled off the workbench.

"WE HAVE A WINNER!"

Walter stood up, completely unaware of the conversation he'd just had with his hammer.

"All right, Stanley. Let's finish this job."

Stanley sighed happily.

"Finally! A man with a plan!"

Walter carefully positioned the next nail, held it steady, and made sure his thumb was out of the way before swinging.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Perfect.

The next nail went in just as smoothly.

Then another.

And another.

Stanley could hardly contain his excitement.

"Look at that! No screaming! No dancing! No thumb injuries! This is what I call progress!"

Walter worked steadily until the last piece of plywood was securely fastened.

He stepped back and admired his work.

"Well, Stanley, old buddy, we did it!"

Stanley practically glowed.

"Yes, Walter! And you finished with all ten fingers!"

Walter gathered his tools and headed home.

That evening, he carried Stanley into the workshop and placed him on the workbench.

As soon as Walter closed the door, Stanley shouted:

"EVERYBODY! YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED TODAY!"

Larry leaned forward.

"Let me guess. Walter hit his thumb again."

Stanley stared at him.

"How did you know?!"

Mutt clicked his tape.

"Wasn't exactly a difficult measurement."

Jeff added, "We've known Walter long enough to figure that one out!"

Stanley groaned.

"Well, this time he sat down and had a whole conversation with himself about how to stop hitting his thumb!"

Larry chuckled.

"And what did he decide?"

"To slow down and watch what he was doing!"

Mutt snapped his tape back into place.

"Well, imagine that!"

Jeff laughed.

"Two days of construction work to figure out he should watch where he's swinging!"

Stanley nodded solemnly.

"I tell you, fellows, being a hammer is a dangerous profession."

Larry tilted slightly.

"For the hammer?"

"No!" Stanley exclaimed. "For the human holding it!"

The workshop erupted in laughter.

Stanley settled comfortably on the workbench.

"But I will say one thing about Walter Briggs. He might hit his thumb now and then, but he never gives up."

Larry smiled.

"That's why we like him."

Mutt clicked in agreement.

"And that's why we keep working for him."

Jeff extended his tape a few inches.

"Even if his learning curve is longer than ten feet!"

Stanley laughed.

"Well, boys, I'm officially retiring for the evening. My hammerhead has had enough excitement for one week!"

Larry grinned.

"Good night, Stanley. Try not to let all that fame go to your head."

Stanley closed his imaginary eyes.

"Don't worry, Larry. Unlike Walter, I know exactly where my head is!"

And once again, laughter filled Walter Briggs's workshop.

Outside, Walter walked past the workshop door, completely unaware of the comedy taking place among his tools.

He glanced at his thumb and shook his head.

"Tomorrow," he muttered, "I think I'll take a day off."

Inside the workshop, Stanley whispered one final word.

"AMEN!"