The Broken Parcel – Part 1

An intriguing challenge from Indigo Spider – some tandem writing. All around the theme ‘Broken & Fixed’. One writer starts the story from either a ‘broken’ or ‘fixed’ angle the next person responds. I’m starting this as someone who has broken something – if anybody steps up to the challenge the next part of the story will be written by the fixer. Read the story and see if it makes more sense then!

The Broken Parcel – Part I

When Mr. H. sent for me I had no choice but to go. The invitation came in the form of two of his ape-like henchman. Saying no was not an option. Johnny Henderson is Mr. Big on our estate. Around here nothing ever happens unless he gives the OK. So when he told me he had a little delivery job he needed me to do I didn’t argue.

“Nice and simple Jimmy,” he’d said, in that quietly menacing voice of his, “Just take it to this address and hand it over. Don’t open it. Don’t drop it.”

Nice and simple he’d said and nice and simple it should have been. He’d given me 48 hours to make the delivery and I had everything well in control until that stupid old man turned up. I couldn’t have been more than half a mile from the drop off point when this daft old sod on one of those disabled trike things came hurtling round the corner. I didn’t stand a chance. I never saw him, just felt him as he knocked me flying. By the time I’d scrambled to my feet he was long gone. Apart from a few scrapes and bruises I was fine, which was more than you could say for Mr. H’s important, ‘don’t drop, don’t open’ parcel. It was lying in the road completely squashed with half the cardboard box and wrappings missing.

“So that’s why I’m here Billy. I need your help.”

“What do you mean, you need my help. I don’t want anything to do with Mr. H. It’s your parcel, your problem, you sort it out.”

“Come on Billy don’t be like that. We’ve been mates for ages. Who else was I going to turn to? You’ve got to help me. If you don’t I’m a dead man. I reckon I’ve got about another 24 hours before his men come looking for me.”

“But why me?”

“You’ve always been good at fixing things Billy. Please, you’ve got to help me. At least have a look.”

Billy reluctantly took the battered parcel from Jimmy. He pulled off what was left of the lid and looked inside the crumpled cardboard box.

“Bloody Hell Jimmy! What sort of mess have you gone and got yourself into now. Do you know what this is?”

MikeJackson©2011

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