My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

It was somewhere deep in the late Tuesday afternoon, underneath an inverted ocean of clear, blue skies, sun shining high, that I was slowly working to the conclusion that it was simply going to be another one of those kinds of Tuesdays if you get my meaning.

Everyone loves to give Monday the deserved flak for being the vile, cruel Monday that it was, but Tuesday can get just as vicious, just as heartless if it wanted to at any time without any impending warning to soften the blow. 

I certainly didn't get any. 

At least with Mondays, you knew what to expect. When Tuesdays go bad, the betrayal cuts deep. And yet even after hours spent reconciling with that fact, I can still feel the sting. 

It all started this morning with something small, simple… just the seemingly inconsequential funny-sounding sputter coming from my bike's exhaust pipe. If I weren't already rushing to my shift, I had probably given the time to give a damn. 

But with the looming threat of rearming Nick with a fresh arsenal of snides at stake, goes without saying, I really thought I had made the better choice at the time.

Work, meanwhile, was just simply… bad. Can't sugarcoat it any more than that. Bad's all I got, and during service, bad was all I was throughout. 

Hayley did a complete overhaul of the menu on top of the makeover she made to the entire cafe. Was in for quite a discovery when I clocked in yesterday. 

New servings, new ingredients which also meant new things to memorize, once again, keeping with the Asterian themes, names, slang… and with only a day's worth of training instilled in my feeble mind, I might have fumbled a few orders here and there which, granted, would have been just fine had this been just another ordinary Tuesday. 

Little did I know that Hayley had also gone on an extravagant promotion spree. 

A shoutout in one of Tyler's videos here, an endorsement from Amanda's there, and voilà, you get a backlog of still incoming orders that spans all the way out the door. By the time the rush had settled, I was clocking three and a half hours in overtime.

Sure, Hayley would have probably left me off the leash at any time had I asked… but I just didn't have it in me to leave her and the middle shift swamped behind the counter. So I stayed. Made more mistakes. And for my selfless display of generosity, I was granted the entirety of tomorrow off. 

"That's for tomorrow's shoot," Hayley informed me before I could burst into joyous tears in her arms. "Remember—all the main cast has to be there. Main includes you. Mr. Director made it extra clear how important tomorrow is gonna be, so better make sure you catch up on your suaveness, Chester." 

I left the cafe, walking the walk of a defeated man. The thought of home was the only thing that kept me from lying sprawled out in the middle of the road. It kept me chugging through that last mile, the literal homestretch. 

I put on my helmet, got on my bike… and resounded loudly like the punchline of the week… there was that funny-sounding sputter again. The last thing I heard, before I heard nothing more. 

No matter how many I twisted the ignition, or how hard I kicked the starter, it was no use… Tuesday had struck again… leaving me in the silent company of crudely sprayed smiley graffitied on the side of a neighboring building. 

I feel mocked. 

"Alright, okay, your girl's really got me stumped here." 

Those weren't words you'd wanna hear, especially more so coming from the uneven, uncertain lips of your local seasoned mechanic. 

"I double-checked all the usual suspects, dead battery, faulty spark plug, stubborn starter, but…" the mechanic exhaled a tobacco-tinged breath, billowing the hanging strands of his bushy mustache. "...yeah, no, everything checks out. Battery's healthy, spark's sparking, starter's loose and good. Nothing's wrong with your bike, buddy." 

"Mmm," I nodded, tired. "Except for the fact that it doesn't start." 

"Exactly!" the mechanic exclaimed, breaking into a dry, wheezy chuckle. "And I can't just go swapping out parts if I don't even know what needs swapping to begin with. Gonna have to take a closer look at things, start picking apart at it—only way we're gonna get to the bottom of this. But fair warning first, it's gonna be a while if we're really gonna go that way."

All I could do was sigh. What else was I expecting to hear after wheeling my bike all the way to the nearest Auto Shop on a very special day like this one?

Briefly, I sifted through the contents of the shop. It looked old, which was good. Paint on the walls flaking off in chunks, tools atop dented workbenches sparsely smudged with years of rust. If they've been here for that long, then so has he. Guy oughta know his craft. I trust him. 

"How long do you need?" I asked. 

"Depends on when and where I find the problem. We got a needle-in-a-haystack situation here," the man said. "Best estimate I can give, well… way longer than you're probably hoping for."

"That's fine, it's okay," I said, just rolling with the punches at this point. "Go do your thing, man. Thanks." 

"Right," the man cleared his throat, putting his hands together in a single echoing clasp. "Just a few more things, some info, name, phone number, the usual… yeah, I'll get a pen, just a minute…"

After stepping into his office for a moment, and filling out what was needed, I was all set on moving on to the next step in the grieving process: finding another way home.

"Wait, wait, hold up a sec," the mechanic called out, catching up to me just as I passed through to the outdoors. "My card, take it. Number's at the bottom. We also do consults, come to you in case you can't come to us. Hopefully, you won't need it but hey, you never know." 

"Oh, thanks," I took the card from his hand, spotting the company logo, motto, and as well as the owner himself. "Anyway, uh, Mr. Leonard… thanks again for taking care of me here. I appreciate the help."

"That's Rudy to you, sir," he said with a smirk. "And not to worry, it's my pleasure. As for your ride, I'll do my best to keep cost at a minimum. Don't want you sweating over how many zeroes you're gonna need to cover." 

I gave him a look. "You'd do that?" 

"Special discount," he beamed. "For first-time customers only." 

"Wow…" I felt my lips loosening a little, gradually covering up. "That's… I appreciate it, thanks." 

Then, as I began to swivel back to the open road, ready to leave, Rudy spoke up again, his eyes wrinkling in slight concern. 

"Got a way back?" he asked, taking a step to my side. "You booking a ride?"

My first thought was the power of friendship and love. But I realize that Irene had to be swamped, and Amanda's busy prepping for the coming semester. Nick's a no-go. Tyler would be suicide, so… 

"Already on it," I muttered, phone in hand and thumb swiping through offers.

"Yeah, no, don't bother," Rudy said at once, shaking his head. "Those fuckers charge double and triple around this time. Complete scam. Not on my watch. I'll get you home, no problem."

"What?"

"Hey, Derrick!" Rudy shouted back into the shop. "Derrick! Get over here, boy, c'mon! Got a customer here waiting on you!" 

Approaching in a half-sprint, Derrick came in the disheveled form of a lanky, slender young man roughly around my age with a stubble on his chin and a lit cigarette tucked between his lips. 

If I had to say anything, then he looked like a man of priorities, and by that I mean, a man with none at all. Lax, lifeless, and listless, a trinity of lethargy personified, and for some reason, he also looked oddly familiar to me. 

"Here," Derrick said, announcing his presence with all the enthusiasm of depression. "What do I gotta do." 

"Get him home," Rudy ordered, jerking a thumb in my direction. "He's got no ride, and excellent service is our policy, ain't it? Get to serving." 

"On it…" the young man replied, putting out his cigarette and sauntering off to a truck parked nearby. 

"Wait, hold on," I spoke up. "Mr. Leonard—Rudy, you don't really have to—" 

"Like hell, I don't," he interrupted. "One look on your face tells me all I need to do. We all have our shit days, and it looks to me like you're going through one right now. Really gonna turn down the opportunity to maybe make it less shit for you?" 

"No, it's just, um…" I looked at him, peered into his eyes, the kindly smile on his old, age-weathered face. "That's just… I don't think it's exactly in the job description of a mechanic to undercharge his clients or even offer them a free ride home."

He sniggered, his 'stache wriggling lively as he did. "Then how about for being human? Lending a helping hand, when we can, when we're able. Pretty much what we're born for, don't you think?"

Just who the hell was this guy? Literal benevolence incarnate… 

"I don't know what to say," I muttered. 

"Okay, now you're just lying, been saying it already, haven't you?" he raised a hand, patting me lightly on the shoulder, still with that same look in his eyes. "Thank you." 

That look of overwhelming gratitude. 

"Thanks, then," I muttered, dazed, blinking back. "Thank you, Rudy." 

He nodded his head, his smile with relish, with a palpable joy. 

"You're welcome."