The Hardware Fairy!

"Dave!" Dave heard his rather chunky wife, Janice, on his phone, just as his day of being a geek solution expert was heading to knock off time. "Yes dear?" he asked quite meekly, "What is wrong?"

Dave and Janice had been married so long now, they never wasted small talk on niceties. Like, "How are you? How is your day going?" No, straight to the nitty gritty here. Janice did not take any prisoners. "Flossy and Bossy have broken the toilet seat. You'll have to mend it, or get a new one. This is urgent, they're on their rags again."

"Right, I'll head to Hugga Bunny Hardware. No problems, I can do that. Bye." Dave was part of a genre, of his generation. The great Australian Mr. Fix It, a DIY kind of guy. He fancied himself as a home handyman, wishing anyone the best of good luck getting an emergency plumber at this hour of a feel good Friday afternoon.

Girding himself, he knew he was perfectly capable of installing the new-fangled plastic toilet seat. Flossy and Bossy were his teenage twins, looked just like Janice, and were experiencing the full blooming of puberty. He logged off at his workplace setting, and drove confidently to the hardware emporium.

This was his kind of store. He tried never to take his wife there. It was a truly male domain, full of guys proficient at this hands-on physical stuff, looking for that ultimate tool. Yes, it was time for male bonding at Hugga Bunny Hardware store.

Unfortunately for Dave and his mates, somewhere over here, times changed. The Hardware store had expanded, embracing any item to be swathed in yards of anonymous bubble wrap, disguised in colorful cardboard or plastic, with largely incomprehensible texts of instructions. Each item now needed up to a 1000 bits and bobs, sold in multiple packets.

Further to this, any aisle of this vast store of bewildering choices ended up with a display of cookware. This was a very valid reason not to take any wife here. Dave did stop, Janice had muttered about needing an Air Fryer. As if their home cupboards did not have enough gadgets and unused appliances already.

Bemused, Dave did linger for a long moment. Should he buy an Air Fryer, surprise his wife? But here the Hardware Fairy got him a beauty. There were: 1 liter Fryers, 2 liter Fryers, 3 liter Fryers, all sizes really. Up to and including a gigantic 10 liter Air Fryer. Dither reigned, what color was in for choosing an Air Fryer? Dave wondered why.

Puzzled by that non-event, he summoned his Hardware Fairy, realizing that replacing the toilet seat was urgent, needed to be done for his plump family. It was the height of summer, the non-football season. But fear not, Dave had his own personal guardian angel. He imagined his Hardware Fairy as looking like Mrs. Football.

Mrs. Football was now the ex-wife of Dave's football team captain. She had swallowed her husband's steroids he had obtained from his club doctor. No pharmacist dared complain. That had been a scandal of football, all right. All premiership ratings and points stripped from Dave's team, banned from choosing new recruits. Drugs in sport, his team had got caught, what can any fan do?

Mrs. Football was the sort of forward any team really needed, lots of goals, pumped with testosterone. She looked like a body builder from the gym. Mrs. Football went to a tanning studio, and did body sculpting. She did move on, she was now a trail blazer for wearing string bikinis, sometimes even pink lace.

Dave meandered on, aisle after aisle, intent on locating toilet seats, plastic, white. Aha, found them. The Hardware Fairy, rippling biceps on show, stood invisibly next to him. "Now you're up the creek, Dave. You don't know what size you need."

Dave groaned, but no one was around. Each home handyman was resolving his own puzzles, trying to read sizes in ancient Swahili. This was not one of Dave's languages. He looked around, trying to find the long gone personal touch of a helpful young lad in a grey coat, full of hardware wisdom. No, all vanished down progress road.

Basically, any Hardware store, and the Hardware Fairy, had no human face. Still, it was a New Year, joy more and good goals, all that jazz. Dave could handle this domestic disaster. As he was stacking up no less than seven new white plastic toilet seats, still packaged, in seven different sizes, another text from Janice.

"Flossy just slammed the toilet door and broke the latch. You can get a new latch too." The Hardware Fairy smirked at his shoulder, saying, "Good luck on that one. Silver or Gold, and what size?" She flexed her washboard abs, deltoids ablaze. Caustic chick, but realistic.

Dodging the Air Fryers and fry pans, Dave stood gazing at latches. Large, mini, medium, small, ornate, plain, gold or silver. He might need paint to cover the wrong latch to match Janice's unique decor. But this was DIY, part of his male true essence.

Dave resolved that one by choosing a variety of latches, and headed to the self-serve registers, not a helpful soul in sight. Gaining exit, there stood a slightly fatty supervising female, checking the male customers' receipts. Scoffing, she said to Dave, "Do you want a screw for the latch?"

That was hardware talk. Or was she really asking for One Thing? Wow. But no, Dave had to get home and urgently replace this white plastic toilet seat, size a bit of a mystery as yet.

"Hurry up, Dave." That was all Janice had to say. Strange to say, but one toilet seat was exactly right. Dave was the home handyman hero that evening. Soon, Janice, Flossy and Bossy flushed the loo in sequence, dinner was a yummy tray bake, laced with garlic and paprika. Dave decided Janice was more than capable of choosing an Air Fryer with her own specifications. Hey, he believed in peace at home, paramount.

After dinner, it was that fateful, but boring, summer of tennis on television. It was a ladies' evening. Two baseline players were pinging their sports bras and designer tennis rackets. Tonight's babes with identical long blonde plaits were Smashanova and Bonkonova. Shrieks ensued on Dave's TV screen, Bonkonova chucked a right tantrum, and wrecked her tennis racket on the central umpire.

In the toilet, Flossy flushed, Bossy flushed, and flushed again. Dave was rumbling in his largish guts, it was his turn to christen the new toilet seat, if his teens ever stopped flushing. He could replace the latch in the morning. His toilet might need a new cistern as well, the way his teens were going.

Smashanova had a time delay, for a rest room break. Dave asked Janice, interested, "When did life become about wees and poos?" Janice looked at him sideways,. "Have you been reading Plato again?" "Who?" Dave asked. The Hardware Fairy appeared to be vanishing through the lounge room window. One last tip from her. "Tomorrow, you'll have to get a refund for the extra toilet seats."

Janice picked up on that thought, "Tomorrow, you'll have to get a refund for all those toilet seats." Dave smiled, and kept the peace. He still had hope. "But I got a 1000 screws for the latch." Janice looked at him in disgust, sneering like the best of fairy wives. "N one could be that desperate."

Dave did not recall getting older, arriving at middle-age. He rolled his eyes. He was a DIY male. His fat-bottomed girls made his world go round. Tomorrow, he could see his Hardware Fairy again. Joy more, it was 2024....