Two police officers were sent to investigate a milk manufacturing plant.
It's administration was overseen by a female duo of an Indian background.
"Hey, could you guys help around a little?" One of the ladies requested with what looked like a vase, perhaps full of milk, on top of her head.
Suddenly, the officers went to work. Not a word came from their mouths. The questions they wanted to ask of them had vanished. A job which required them to be inquisitive turned into a job in producing milk.
These men, for some strange reason, were enticed by these two indian ladies -- not sexually nor romantically, but they just had this otherworldly desire to help.
Ironically, one man with a late son named Mitchell, worked on repairing this machine named "Mitchell Oil" even if it wasn't his responsibility much less known of it's existence prior.
The machine fell into a much worse condition than with him on the lines of service. He couldn't fix it just like he couldn't fix the death of his son. Screams of frustration came sporadically as he displayed animal-like behavior with jamming modules into the machine.
His partner came to see what was wrong.
The man, drenched in his own perspiration, was hysterical and in tears. The other man took over the repair in an effort to console him and fixed it within a matter of seconds.
It wasn't a surprise.. Recalling the past, it was his partner that played catch with Mitchell more so than he did, better yet - never did.
Through the ceiling window, the sun diminished bringing the dark of night. Lights flickered on, illuminating in periodic blinks the other machines around them that also needed repairing.
The men spent the rest of their lives working at this factory.