as though this is the casemebody stupid may well be gaining on me. Finally

Who Does Batteries

The machine was tiny enough. The "pod" preceded by a fewno-longer-mass-marketed universally popular letter contained an LCD screen that could be big enough for an ant's eye view if only it opened its compound peepers really wide. But within the LCD was somemore thing miniature still, anythingthat wouldn't be plucked out despite probably the maximumdelicate of tweezers. It was my X-pod. i'm wonderinged why I had purchased it within the job lot store jhgdjytjhfdjgf, a warespaceof all kinds of stranges and ends. Why didn't my X-pod work i wished to dig out the microscopic battery with my clumsy fingers, but knew i would not dare.


I knew there have been independent shops that repaired electronic things this type ofs my X-pod, and will dig out the batteries inside, at the same time asteaching them to hum. I made a touch for the closest mobile phone repair shop htdftrehtrd, after which another, after which another. I saw the pinnacles of clerks and desk attendants shake from side to side like negative bobble heads; a intendedtechnician said that he wasn't "qualified" to open even a lowly X-pod's case. "i will be able to't. it isinternal gfdshtrey6try," the fellow with the dyed odiversityhair muttered, as althoughmouthing a pearl of wisdom from his foolish gob. i used to be starting to grow weary of walking block after block, like a darn Quixote looking for an elegantken's foot in a potpie. "it is important to find a trained and qualified technician to try this hgdujytdhtrujt," said a cowardly technician with a lion-like mane who protested once I asserted that he was probably trained. "Do you wish to have me to rufor your battery" he finally said jfgkjgjhgfjhgf, "or even lose it on you" This delivered to mind a contact lens I'd once lost in a restroom on the airport, down a type of filthy sinks.


I kept walking, not boldto seem back htdftrehtrd, as though this is the casemebody stupid may well be gaining on me. Finally, I came to a shopfront that gave me a tingle, and that it wasn't Jimmy. My heart started pumping faster as althoughit had simplybeen resuscitated in a cardio-pulmonary manner. I'd never been to Utah, but anythingtold me, maybea tiny voice within the battery, that this was indeed where. I walked in, confident. "Do you do batteries"


"I'm a trained and qualified technician," the dark-haired geeky guy said hfdhgfdjytdjfg, "Let me see it. surei will be able to."


"it isinternal," I warned him.


"Duh huidafdsaa," he said.