I thought I was just hiring a contractor. You know, fix up the back deck, patch a bit of siding. My neighbor recommended this guy—called himself Bobby the Builder, said he did solid work. His flyer looked professional enough, and he pulled up in this bright yellow truck with cartoon characters painted on the side. A little odd, sure, but I wasn’t going to judge.

We walked around the property while he inspected things, nodding thoughtfully and muttering “easy job” under his breath. Then he gave me the quote. I laughed at first—thought it was a joke. Double what I’d budgeted.

I told him I couldn’t pay that much. Not up front, not in parts. And that’s when the shift happened.

His smile vanished like a switch flipped. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out what I assumed was a measuring tool. Until the blade snapped out with a metallic click. He held it in front of him, casually, like he was about to open a box—not threaten someone’s physical safety.

Then, he whistled. Out from the truck came this massive blue crane—well, not a real crane, more like a weird robotic pet. “Lofty,” he called it. The thing blinked its headlights like it was alive. Bobby leaned in close to me and said, “Everyone pays. One way or another.”

I ran. I didn’t even lock my front door. Just bolted across the street to the gas station, screaming like a lunatic. The cops didn’t find him. His truck was gone by the time they arrived, not a screw or tire track left behind.

I still check the street before leaving the house. Every morning. I don’t think he was real in the normal sense. But I do know one thing: never, ever try to bargain with a man who brings a robotic crane to a home repair job.