The Wizard of the Adjustable Wrench

Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for the delay.  Please enjoy a little story with a moral, for all you language learners out there.  For teachers, this is a good source of vocabulary, in particular adjectives.  It is free to use, but if you host this story please link to the source.

My uncle had a toolbox. It was huge. My uncle’s toolbox contained all kinds of things, which clinked and clanked as he carried it around. He didn’t carry it around very often, though, because it was enormously heavy. Inside this steel-grey cave of wonder were tools both old and new, rusty and shiny, even tools which were broken, but which he would not throw away.

If there was a problem in the house, my uncle would fetch his toolbox from the garage and drag it to the source of the problem. This often took several hours. Then, when he had arrived, he would spend a good fifteen minutes rummaging through his toolbox, searching for the perfect tool for the job. Often, it was dirty, or rusty, because it had fallen to the bottom of the box.

My uncle would clean the tool, test the tool, use the tool, and then put it back into the box. “The perfect tool for the job!” he would cry. Afterwards, the box would stay where he had put it down; he never had the energy to put it back in the garage straight away. It was always an ordeal, but nothing stayed broken for long in my uncle’s house.

My dad also had a toolbox, although his was much smaller. Just like in my uncle’s house, nothing in my house stayed broken for long, but whereas my uncle always had “The perfect tool for the job!”, my dad only had four. There was a roll of gaffa tape, a can of WD40, a pair of pliers and an adjustable wrench. With these four tools, my dad worked wonders. Never before had I dreamed of the possibilities of gaffa tape. Never before had I seen the beauty of WD40, the majesty of pliers, the wizardry of an adjustable wrench. It was marvellous to watch him work.

Now I am grown up, and I need my own toolbox. Which should I buy? My dad would spend more time working than my uncle, sure, but in the end the result was the same: something broken was fixed. But whereas my uncle would spend a vast amount of time dragging his toolbox around, emptying it, filling it, organising it, and searching through it, my dad had only to whip down to the kitchen and open his one up.

I think, in the end, that I would like to be like my dad: The Wizard of the Adjustable Wrench.