The Idea That Didn't Work

The bookstore stood proud upon the High Street, bathed in the glow of early morning light. Its gleaming facade, with a fresh coat of white masonry paint and new window layouts, gave it the look of an old-world store. A small dog was peeing on a lamppost nearby.

Brian Booke liked his store. He liked the customers that came in— usually. Because selling books is tough in the world of South American rainforest companies and everything on the internet.

The day was Tuesday. The day before, it played the role of Monday and made a splendid job of it. Brian reckoned it would do a grand job of turning into Wednesday. You could set your calendar by those occurrences.

The bell over the door chimed. And Brian knew in that moment that his day was about to be stranger than a strange day in Strangeville. He once met a man from Strangeville. He wasn’t strange at all, apart from the fez he wore. A bright blue fez with a yellow feather.

The man walked up to the counter, adjusting his oversized tea cosy as he approached. To facilitate his eyes — they had been obscured by the rim of the tea cosy. He wore it on his head, in the grand tradition of people who were a bit nuts.

“Hello,” he said.

“Good morning! How may I help you on this fine day?” Brian replied, smiling his best customer-service smile.

“Fine day? Fine day, you say? It’s not a fine day to me.”

Brian sighed. A sound like a deflating bicycle tyre. “Ah, sorry to hear that. May I ask why?”

“You may.”

Silence. Brian wasn’t sure what to do. He tried again. “Er, why?”

“Took your time! I am NOT fine because I had an idea. In this store. And it had no merit. I wish to return it.”

“Sorry?”

“Are you hard of hearing? Or a bit thick? The idea. The one I got from this shop. It was flawed. Didn’t work at all.”

“And you say you got it from here? This being a bookstore?”

“Yes! That’s what I said—”

“So you got it from a book in here, you mean?”

“NO! I got it while I was in here.”

Brian was sure he’d never seen the man before. He was equally sure he never wanted to see him again, either.

(Nor me, this is hard to write.)

“I’m a bit thick. So, let me get this right. You were in my store. And while in here, you got an idea. Correct so far?”

The man rolled his eyes. He got a 4 and a 6. He shook his head and popped them back in.

“YES! That’s what I said.”

“How much did you pay for it?”

“What?”

“The idea. How much did you pay for it?”

“Pfft! You are dumb, aren’t you? Nothing, the idea arrived as a thought experiment!”

“Sorted then. I accept it back, and that concludes our transaction. I bid you a good day!”

The man twirled around. His tea cosy didn’t move. An impressive feat of physics, even Brian admitted that. He rubbed the back of his head, belched louder than a windy walrus, and frowned.

“I want a refund—”

“How can I refund you for something you didn’t pay for?”

“Ah.”

“Have a nice day!”

Brian sighed with relief as the man skated out of his shop. He had a roller skate on his left foot and a rollerblade on his right.

Brian shook his head.

“Jeez! What a… Ah, balls!” He muttered to himself.

He realised he hadn’t asked the man what his idea was.