“Holy Torque kid, what did you do to my garage door?”

The deep snarling voice coaxed me into opening my eyes. A bull-like face hovered above me. I yelped and tried to scramble away, but I couldn’t get far because my body was half way through the windshield. As I tried to move, sharp blades of glass poked at my stomach and legs, but with no pain or blood.

“Cool it kid, I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

I stopped and stared at the thing talking to me. The bull head sat on a body bulging with veiny muscles and swathes of dark red hair, except for its bald head. It wore faded gray overalls with black splotches all over it. The ring in its nose was gold plated which matched the tips of its horns.

“Are you a minotaur?” I asked.

The bull man stood up straight. “Mechanitaur. I fix cars. And from what I see, your car will be a real project. But first, let’s get you standin’.” He grabbed me and effortlessly dragged me off the car.

“Wait,” I protested. “Shouldn’t you be careful. I could have internal injuries or something. You might kill me.”

The bull man stood me up then laughed. “You can’t die in a garage. Hell, you can barely get hurt. Your body heals as soon as you cross that boundary.” He thumbed towards the bay door which was folded up on itself with the beetle wedged into it.

“Oh,” I said quietly looking down. I was about to apologize when I noticed all my clothes were shredded. I grabbed my shirt and stretched it out. “Dammit, this was my favorite t-shirt too.”

Bending down, the Mechanitaur examined my shirt. “Hmm, Poison Amy. Can’t say I’ve heard of them.”

“Well duh, she’s a singer from my world.”

“I’ve heard plenty of your music. Got me a radio that gets all the stations. I’m really into that rap music. It’s kinda like the siren poets from Aques, only with more rhythm.” The bull man shook his shoulders slightly as he spoke.

“Right.”

Since I had nothing good to contribute to the topic or rap music I looked around. The room was your standard workshop that you would see in a car repair garage. In the middle was a car lift which was currently suspended in the air with a vehicle that looked similar to the carriage that Cinderella took to the ball, only made of a deep brown wood and with heavy duty truck tires. On the far wall was a cluttered workbench sandwiched in between two tanks of a green bubbling liquid. There were no words on them, only a crude picture of someone drinking from a cup with a line drawn through it. And then of course there was my car inside the door.

“Um sorry about that.”

The Mechanitaur looked at it and gave a half shrug. “It can be fixed. Not cheaply, but then again nothing ever is.” He turned back to me. “Anyway, names Harvey. It’s short for Horvax, but don’t call me that.” He held out his hand.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Milo,” I said, shaking it. His hand felt like worn leather.

“Well Milo, welcome to Harvey’s House. Or as it’s properly known, Garage Zone 1 Dash E Point V3. Best remember that because it’s not listed as Harvey’s House on the map. But that don’t matter for now because until you are allowed to take on the main quest of this floor, Harvey’s will be the only garage you can access. We have food, beds and entertainment, which is all free, within reason. Questions?”

“What’s the main quest?”

Harvey shook his head. “Can’t tell ya’. Least not yet.”

“How long will it take to fix the beetle?”

“Hard to say. I gotta fix that baby first,” he gestured up at the pumpkin car, “then I gotta assess the damage. For now just head through the door and if you have more questions, you can bother the other Harvey about it.” Before I could ask anything more, Harvey turned his back to me and shooed me away.

From the workshop I walked into a tiled floor atrium that looked like one of those rest areas that could’ve also passed for a mini mall. Three restaurants lined one side each with a different look to it. One looked like a bar with only a counter and stool seats. Next to that was a fast food joint with scattered tables and chairs and small booths. And the last one had the look of a fancy restaurant with a carpet, two chairs across from each other at each table and a lit candle on each of them. Like with a rest area, there were no doors, only open walls that opened up the restaurant like a display.

On the other side of the atrium were a series of doors. Each of them had drawings much like the one on the tanks in the workshop, but these were heads with different features. For example one had horns and gills, while another one looked more like a dog. At the very end of the line was a door that had nothing on it.

But in the middle of it all, in the center of the atrium was an information desk. It was a circular counter with an empty chair in the middle and I knew what it was, because on top of it was a sign that read, “Information Desk.”

“Are you going to stand there gawking all day, or will you allow me to return to my seat.”

I turned to see a woman looking down at me, quite literally. She was at least eight feet tall with a flower patterned dress so long that it could’ve been able to be used as a sheet for at least three king sized beds. Her green hair, which I at first thought were dreadlocks until I realized they were actually tree vines, hung down over her face making her look like a movie monster. She had her arms crossed and held a long stick in one hand that spouted out smoke.

I moved out of her way and she strided past me. With two steps she reached the desk and stepped over it. Even sitting down she still towered over me. She took a long drag from the stick and the end lit up. After a couple of seconds she blew out a puff of smoke.

“Welcome to Harvey’s House. My name is Havarti.”

I shook my head quickly to regain my senses. “You mean like…”

“Yes, like the cheese,” she snapped. “My father was a cook and had a thing for that disgusting food. You humans all ask the same questions. And speaking of questions. Food. Bed. Entertainment.” Havarti pointed to the restaurants, then the doors with the heads and then to the blank door. You can only eat at one place per meal per day. Don’t ask me why, that’s just how it is. You can use the bedrooms whenever you want, each symbol refers to the type of creature it is made for.

I looked at the doors and frowned. “I don’t see one for humans.”

“That’s because there isn’t one specifically made for you. You seem to be able to fall asleep anywhere, so they decided to just not make one for you.”

“Who is they?”

“What’s with all the questions?” Havarti took another drag from the stick. It didn’t seem to shrink even though it was clearly burning. “Humans always have questions. Who cares who they are. Any more questions, or can I get back to my job.”

This whole world was weird, and with everything that had happened, I needed to get my mind off of it, even if for a little while. I could’ve asked more about the bedrooms and gotten some sleep, but I didn’t feel tired at the moment. So I looked at the last door.

“What kind of entertainment do you have?”

Havarti shrugged. “Don’t know. It changes from time to time and I haven’t gone in there in a while. Find out for yourself and give me some peace.”