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Show Notes
Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!
Welcome to A Bedtime Story. I'm Matthew Mitchell, and tonight's story is titled The Refund at the End of the Universe, Part 3 of this week's series: The Inventory of Impossible Things.
The shimmer in the air was no longer a subtle effect. It looked like the world was being viewed through a very thick, very dirty glass of water. Trees were bending in directions that trees shouldn't bend, and the sound of a thousand ticking clocks filled the driveway. Julian realized that by dispersing the inventory, he had broken the seal that Uncle Arthur had spent forty years maintaining.
"We have to get everything back," Julian said, the wit finally drained from his voice. "If we don't, the neighborhood is going to turn into a fractal."
"I told you," Maya said, though she didn't sound happy about being right. "Look at the garage."
The garage door was wide open, and the white light from the Time Jar was pouring out like a physical substance. Standing in the middle of the driveway was a man who hadn't been there a second ago. He wore a gray suit that was so unremarkable it was actually difficult to look at. He carried a clipboard and a very tired expression.
"Name?" the man asked, not looking up.
"Julian," Julian stammered. "Who are you? Are you with the homeowners association?"
"I am the Auditor," the man said. "I work for the Department of Temporal and Physical Consistency. Your Uncle Arthur was a Level Four Custodian. He was authorized to hold these anomalies in a controlled environment. You, however, are an unlicensed merchant of chaos. Do you have any idea how hard it is to file a report for a floating retired man?"
"I was just trying to pay the rent," Julian said.
"The rent for this reality is paid in stability, not twenty-dollar bills," the Auditor sighed. He tapped his clipboard. "The inventory is currently scattered across three blocks. If they are not returned to the containment field within the next ten minutes, this entire zip code will be relocated to the middle of the Cretaceous Period. I hope you like ferns."
The Auditor snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Julian and Maya felt a strange tugging sensation in their chests. They were moving, but their feet weren't touching the ground. They were being pulled through the neighborhood like magnets. Every item they had sold—the toaster, the keys, the mirrors—was also being pulled back toward the garage.
They flew past Mr. Henderson's house, seeing the gravity-defying ottoman zip out from under his porch. They saw the toaster fly through a closed window without breaking the glass. One by one, the impossible objects returned to the garage, snapping back into their crates with satisfying clicks.
The Auditor stood by the garage door, checking items off his list as they flew past him. Julian and Maya landed in a heap on the driveway just as the final jar of stolen seconds whistled through the air and landed perfectly on the workbench.
The white light vanished. The ticking clocks fell silent. The trees returned to their upright positions. The neighborhood looked boring again, which was a relief.
"Is that everything?" Julian asked, rubbing his elbow.
"Almost," the Auditor said. He looked at Julian's pocket. "You still have the twenty dollars you took from the man with the ottoman."
Julian reluctantly pulled out the bill and handed it over. The Auditor took it, and the money dissolved into a puff of blue smoke.
"The garage is now under state receivership," the Auditor announced. "You are allowed to keep the structure, but the interior will remain empty and inaccessible to you. If you ever find so much as a self-tying shoelace, you are to contact us immediately. Do not try to sell it."
"What about my Uncle Arthur?" Julian asked. "Was he really a custodian?"
"Arthur was a man who knew that the world is a lot messier than people like to believe," the Auditor said, his voice softening just a fraction. "He spent his life making sure people could sleep at night without worrying about their furniture flying away. It is a thankless job. You should stick to losing your remote."
With another snap of his fingers, the Auditor vanished. Julian and Maya looked at each other, then at the garage. The door was now a solid, immovable wall of wood. There was no humming, and no smell of oil or old books.
"Well," Maya said, breaking the silence. "We still don't have rent money."
"I have an idea," Julian said, a small grin returning to his face. "I think there's a normal lawnmower in the basement. We could start a landscaping business."
"As long as the lawnmower stays on the ground," Maya said.
"I promise," Julian replied.
They walked back toward the house. Behind them, the garage sat silently in the twilight. For the first time in weeks, Julian felt like he had all the time in the world, and for once, he didn't feel the need to bottle it up.