Not In Hot Water

If you're going to have a plumber, it's best if he's Scottish.  There's no messin' around.

"Aye," plumber Scott said, "it's aefauldly knackered."

He could have ended that sentence with "ka-ching" because that was coming next.

"What are the damages," I enquired as tepidly as the "hot" water running out of my taps.

"Well, it's never easy these things, is it?" Scott ruminated.

I heard, "Ka-Ching."

Scott mused, "There's the piping and the grommets and the widgets and the whatzits and you'll need two thing-a-ma-bobs."  Scott was lost in a vision of driving his new BMW.

I heard, "KA-Ching."

"Oh, and there's the haulin' and shovin' and pushin' ... all uphill ... both ways."

I heard, "KA-CHING."  "Will there be bagpipes," I asked?

"Oh, aye, and haggis!  Ye do have a nice supply of single malt, I hope.  Helps the installation a treat."

And with that Scotty danced a little jig out to his truck while I rummaged around in the liquor cabinet for some single malt.

"Might as well start now," I thought, and poured myself a double KA-CHING.