Dan and the Magic Gloves

It took Dan almost a year to perfect his magic gloves. His friends scoffed at the idea, told him it would never work, but Dan was determined to prove them wrong. The idea came to him in a dream, and it was one of those eureka moments that make you leap out of bed in the middle of the night so you can write it down before you forget it.

It was the best idea Dan had ever had, but putting it into practice turned out to be a lot harder than he expected. A whole season came and went while he worked it all out in his head, sketched it out on paper, then finally came up with the blueprints in AutoCAD. A weekend was wasted in his father’s garage while he built a prototype out of an old pair of gardening gloves. When they didn’t work he threw them across the garage in a rage and tipped over his father’s workbench, sending tools clattering to the floor.

After a little research on the internet, Dan decided a pair of leather motorcycle gloves would be a better starting point. They were tough, long-lasting, waterproof, and more likely to withstand the pressures they would be subjected to both in construction and eventual use. And as an added bonus, you could buy them with a large patch of chamois leather sewn into the palms, which the man in the motorcycle shop enthused would be very useful for wiping rainwater and dead insects off your helmet’s visor. When the man asked why he was buying a pair that were several sizes too big for him, Dan shrugged and said he would probably need to wear something else underneath them when it was cold.

Back in his father’s garage, prising off the plastic knuckle-protectors proved harder than Dan expected. He gave up after a few attempts with a hammer and chisel, and eventually used a rotary grinder to flatten them, followed by a nibbler drill to cut the intricate shapes he needed into their surface. He blew away the plastic debris and smiled as he examined his handiwork. He was glad the hammer and chisel hadn’t worked, because this was going to be a lot better to hold the mechanisms in place.

He hummed a tune to himself as he cut slits into the tips of the fingers with a pair of leather cutters. He ignored his mother’s yells for him to come in and eat his dinner before it went cold. His new invention, the magic gloves that came to him in a dream, was almost complete. He knew they were going to work even before he slipped them onto his hands. He held them out before him and flexed his fingers slowly into a pair of fists.

He flicked the fingers of one hand open and Stanley knife blades shot out from the tips like spring-loaded claws. He clenched his fist rapidly and a set of four tungsten nails rose from the knuckles just as the blades retracted back into the fingers. Straightening his fingers returned the nails to their receptacles, making them look like normal motorcycle gloves again. Dan practiced wiping imaginary blood from the back of the gloves with the chamois leathers on the palms and nodded to himself. Shefferham United were playing Fulchester Rovers at the weekend, and it would be the perfect occasion to test them out properly. He couldn’t wait to see the look of pure envy on his friends’ faces as he ripped into the rival supporters.

 

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About Marcus Blakeston

Ex-shouting poet, ex-fanzine writer, ex-angry young man (now growing old disgracefully). Living in sunny Yorkshire with his wife, children and motorcycle, Marcus still has a healthy distrust of all forms of authority.
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