The Tinker’s Dilemna

The final shot of the bottle sat in his glass and Jared was no closer to knowing what to do. Carol was sitting in the basement, some ten blocks away, probably playing with some slight entertainment that Jared had left about. She was always easy enough to please; dvds and video games all seemed so new to her. It was new, but then again so was she.

“Mister that’s 151, how are you still sitting here?”

“Constitution has never been my problem. My problem is and will always be,” The last drops left the shot glass down his gullet “My problem is indecision. Anyways, the bottle only had three shots.”

“That’s still a lot.”

“So is she.” He pulled out his wallet size photo of Carol.

Her mouth was gaping wide and barely shaped into a smile. Jared remembered the moment before flash, she was caught in one of her strange fits of laughter. The camera was something new and she was about three seconds from pouncing him and dissecting. It was really amazing that he was able to retrieve the memory card later.

Pain being an alien thing to her, she paid no heed to her quickly tossing breast. She was tackling him and leaving him just as promptly. She held her new toy to the light of the small window overhead, trying to catch a glimpse of the magic situated inside. It was always magic to her.

As she walked through the light, her red hair ignited into vibrant hues. She retreated back to her workbench, an old desk Jared had rescued from an economy apartment about to be demolished. That’s what Jared use to do, he was a scavenger.

He was a scavenger until Jared came up with the bright idea of Carol. Back then, she was more of a vague blueprint and four boxes of mismatched parts. Her powerful but slender legs could find cousins in any number of cities, helping soldiers, policemen and hot dog vendors alike. Same with her eyes, her arms, and even her hair. No matter how many side projects he had though, he still took at least twenty hours of his week to work on her. Along the way of building her, he found a fortune which was indeed fortunate, because that’s what she cost.

When he was a scavenger, no woman wanted him. During his life as an inventor, he did romance a few women. With them, in their folds he was quite happy. They seemed happy too, although as the stereotype goes he didn’t much care about their enjoyment. Even on his best nights, he was thinking of the hypothetical ideal sitting in his basement.

Carol was the driving force in his life. Every new invention, every dollar, it was for her. By the his the time he turned 30, she had a rudimentary face and was developing a mind. He wanted to make such things grow naturally. He would talk to her, teach her, play with her. She had a childhood, but a skinless one.

On his 40th birthday, he completed her. Six weeks past and he realized he had a problem. When he embraced her, he did not swell. It suddenly seemed impossible to make love to her. It was a cruel time to gain perspective. Ten blocks and three shots later, he found himself holding a picture of her up to a bartender he barely knew.

“Who’s that beauty?”

“My daughter.”

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