#felixitalwright

“Hello? Is this Fix-it All Wright Repair Shop?”

Cindy mindlessly twirled the cord of the house phone with her finger, tapping her foot against the cold tile floor. Finally, after months and months of repairing leaks with duct tape, attacking the overflowing toilet with a plunger, and a myriad of other problems she’s had to repair herself, Madame Tremaine finally gave in to her suggestion of calling the repair company that she had always seen on their street. (Her poor, beautiful home. Papa would be ashamed if he had seen how much of a disarray it had gotten.) 

“Fix-it All Wright” appeared to be a reputable company, especially since they were fixing houses in Bavaria Street. She only hoped that their service rang true, and more importantly, was up to Madame Tremaine’s standards. 

“Cindy! The hot water in the shower isn’t working again!”

“Alright! I’m calling the repair guy right now!” Yeesh, her poor, poor ears, still ringing from Drizella’s yelling. 

A frustrated growl, soft and high pitched, seemed to travel with the dreary summer air. Following the sound was the defeated thud of Taffyta leaning against the hood of her car. Her blonde locks fluttering within the wind and her green hues rolling to the back of her lids. While it didn’t happen often, ‘Pink Lightning’ had stuttered and croaked until finally breaking down in the middle of nowhere. And Taff, usually fine handling some tools, couldn’t fix it. Her arrogance had driven the sporty GT to its final point, and her pride now had her stuck on the side of the road. She stayed like that for a little while; Agitated, determined to figure it out herself. Until finally, with a sigh, she dialed the only one who could fix anything, anywhere. “I need your help.”