Mack, a woodworker, inventor and part time vagrant was at his wit’s end. No work had come his way in a long time. This seemed quite a waste of Mack’s magical work-shed. In his work-shed, the tools spoke as people might and kept Mack company while he created. He had become so depressed, he hadn’t visited his work-shed in weeks.
Then, one day a rather severe looking man with green tinted glasses knocked at Mack’s humble door. As the woodworker opened the door, the stern man pushed passed him. “I represent his majesty, the King of Blister Mountains and protector of the Valley of Eternal Pain”
Mack gave a start but didn’t want to seem intimidated, so he asked, conversationally, “So, how is the Valley of Eternal Pain?”
The stern man’s expression softened for a moment, “Very well”, he said, “We just opened a Chuck-E-Cheez near the Fire Pits of No Return. You should go and bring the family” Mack stood unsure of what to say. The stern man’s expression hardened again, “But, that’s not why I’m here”
The unsmiling man continued, “His majesty desires you build something for his daughter for her sixteenth birthday. A magic chair”
Mack exclaimed, “I can do a chair… a beautiful chair”
“I’m sure you can but–”
“And, I’ve got this great black enamel that I can inlay with ivory to create scenes of heroism and courage… like the time I ate that raw oyster”
“There’s more”, said the stern man.
“I know! How about a colored glass mosaic featuring Aphrodite rising from the sea
foam and complaining that her beach chair is torn?”
“No!”, said the man, “It has to FLY”
Mack deflated a bit, “I don’t know if I have enough enamel and ivory for that”
The man stepped back half a pace, “Too bad. The payment would be far beyond anything you could dream up”
“Color?”
“What?”
Mack said, “I only dream in black-and-white. Can my payment have some color in it?”
“Of course”, said the stern man. He opened the door and started to walk out when he turned. “Now, if you fail, your payment will be your life”
“Okay, I’ll just say it, ‘Harsh!’”
“New policy”, said the stern man, “Some miller’s daughter spun straw into gold three times and then murdered a dwarf”
*
Mack burst through the door of his workshop.
“Hi, Mack”, said the hammer.
“What’s the job?”, asked his saw.
“Let’s get started”, said the wrench.
“I just ate a tube of toothpaste”, said the file.
The screwdriver took a breath and said, “You are looking GOOD, boss. Have you lost weight? Your skin looks fantastic. I’ve GOT to get your regimen. If anyone could handle a complex job like this one, it would be YOU”
There was an awkward pause…
“Any… way”, Mack mused after a moment, “We’re going to make a chair… a FLYING chair”
“Whoa!”, said the hammer.
“I fear you do not have the necessary training in aeronautics or chemistry”, cautioned the saw.
“Plus, most of the composite materials you would need won’t be invented for two hundred years”, said the wrench.
“When I hold my breath too long my scalp tingles”, said the file.
“I am EXCITED about this project”, gushed the screwdriver, “And there is no one more qualified. You, sir, are a god”
So, Mack decided to take the job. He worked and he worked and he worked… until he had finished.
“It’s a great chair”, said the hammer, “But, it can’t fly”
The saw said, “In fact, if I were you, I’d be heading for the nearest border”
“The king did seem pretty serious about what he’d do to you if you failed”, remarked the wrench.
“I bent my finger too hard and now it won’t go back”, said the file.
The screwdriver raved, “I doubt the king will even notice that it can’t fly. Great use of enamel paints and… is THAT glass? Wonderful!”
So, the woodworker decides to show the king what he’d created, despite the hammer warning him that it was a bad idea. The king and his daughter saw the chair and were delighted, at first; but, after a while it became obvious that the chair wasn’t likely to fly anywhere. “Have the woodworker drawn and quartered and then burned at the stake”, the king said.
The princess begged clemency from her father because the enamel paint was really stunning and was that glass? The king looked kindly on his daughter and changed the sentence to drawn and cut into thirds and instead of being burned at the stake, he was to be thrown from a mountain top into a volcano. The princess thanked her father for his charity.
As Mack was dragged off to jail, his hammer, saw and wrench followed to comfort the woodworker. The file wanted to go but the only way he’d be allowed into the jail was if he was baked into a cake. The screwdriver was left in the throne room with the king.
“I warned him”, said the screwdriver, “By the way, your clemency was a real class act. Can I hang with you and absorb your wisdom and greatness?”
The king nodded and the screwdriver remained in that king’s court for the entirety of his reign.
Moral: You don’t have to be the largest device in the workshop to be the biggest tool.
Potatoes and the Promise of More Potatoes 