Fix-it Felix Jr And Sergeant Calhoun Novels & Stories

"Oh, but Riley, don't cap your disappointment over this minor betrayal. Why don't you ask Felix why he paid three grand to your girlfriend a day before her abortion?" "In fact, why don't you beat the crap out of him?" Jamie asked. "He's not nearly as tough as he pretends to be. You see, Felix is like me, and people like us... well, we're lazy. He took just enough martial arts classes to trick you into thinking he was a master, but really, he only knows a few showy moves." As Felix's face ripped with a mixture of shame and rage, Riley slowly turned to face him. "You... you wouldn't have done that. Who'd do that? Who'd kill their best friend's baby?"

"Talk is cheap. You said you can fix it, so do it. I don't care if you figured it out by hearing or touching. All I want is the result." "Okay," I replied without any other comments, took off my coat, and wore only an old grey vest. I took out several strangely-shaped tools from the brand-new Hoffman toolbox. Without a single blueprint or a maintenance manual, I began to disassemble the most crucial transmission component. Every movement I made had a strange rhythm—loosening which screw, with what force, removing which component, and in what order. Everything seemed to have been practiced countless times and had become integrated into my muscle memory.