Screeching metal, shattered beans

Im Treppenhaus roch es nach kaltem Metall und nasser Wolle. Constantin blieb im dritten Stock stehen, weil er glaubte, ein leises Ticken zu hören – nicht von einer Uhr, eher wie ein zu schneller Blinker, irgendwo hinter der Wand.

Constantin hatte einen Geistesblitz, rutschte das Geländer hinunter und rannte zur Tür, ließ seine Werkzeugtasche im Treppenhaus zurück. Eine Druckwelle traf ihn mitten in die Brust wie fünfzehn Fäuste, schleuderte ihn gegen die Wand; Metall kreischte, Trümmer prasselten herab.

Unfortunately, the debris knocked him onto the head and Constantin got a concussion. He woke up many years later in a hospital, sad that he missed so much time. So he decided that for his next invention, he would invent a time machine to go back in time and get back the lost time

The care team was increasingly at wit’s end, “He’s now claiming he’s an inventor named Constantin… aside from the obvious consequences of brain trauma, these delusions are complicating a safe discharge.” The inventor was busy at work, trying to take apart the bed frame for parts.

In about 20 minutes he constructed the finest coffee bean grinder humanity has ever seen and used. No one argued about names after they tasted a brew made with the Constantinizer.