Displaced, But Nothing Goes Right

by BradyBunch


If the Weapon Doesn't Work

“I dunno, man. I don't have much money to spare. A hundred bucks for a sword?”

“Well, if you want, I'll lower the price to fifty!” the man indignantly replied. “Do you want the sword or not?”

“I…” My wallet would still be considerably lighter. A third of my money, gone. “Look, it's a cool sword and all, but-”

“All right, fine! Twenty-five, take it or leave it!”

It wasn't going to get any better than this, and it was a cool sword. “Sold.”

When I gave the change to him and he gently, excitedly picked up the sword, I was trembling, like I was about to get struck by lightning upon contact. He gently, gently, with a knowing gleam in his eye, laid the weapon in my hands.

Nothing whatsoever happened.

The man's expression deteriorated to a disappointed demeanor. “Huh. That's strange. I could have thought…” He took the sword out of my hands and put it in my hands again, like he was expecting something to happen.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“It was supposed to work,” he muttered.

“What was supposed to work? Should I check the batteries, or…”

The man exhaled through his nose and put his hands on his hips. “Nothing. You just...take the sword. Go ahead.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay, I'm gonna...go…”

He waved me off in annoyance. “Have a nice day.”

And I walked off, clutching the awesome sword in my white-knuckled hands.

Before I could walk all the way away, I heard the man furiously kick his display table and angrily bellow, "DANG IT!"