The Lost Parcel

By Didi Gorman
Idea by Uri Gorman and Didi Gorman 

Dorothy has just completed an online purchase of a pink floral glossy handbag with two fluffy pompoms attached to the strap, and she could hardly wait to show her friends this sassy retirement gift that she had just treated herself to.

But, alas! Little does our Dorothy know that her parcel will never arrive.

On the other side of the rural town, members of Ed’s private rifle club were convening on Ed’s driveway for a beer and a smoke and a chat about the merits of firearms and bullets and this or that type of ammo.

If you saw these men, with all the testosterone that was oozing out of them, the experience would surely make you giddy. Those hairy forearms! The bushy chests poking out of necklines! Add to that the beards, mustaches, and stubbles; the husky voices, and the intense eyes beneath those baseball caps, religiously worn indoors, and the overpowering effect of all this virility will make you swoon. But rest assured that should a swooning indeed occur, there would be plenty of muscles to carry you to safety in one of the many off-road vehicles (boasting large tires, large engines, and large everything) which were currently parked on Ed’s driveway.

In short, had a method of manliness-measuring ever been invented, Ed’s driveway would be the place where the barometer – measured in Mn units – would probably explode.

Too bad the post clerk on duty that day in that small and remote town had not bothered double-checking the address on the parcel which had just arrived. If he had, he would have no doubt noticed the error he was about to commit. But as life would have it, whether out of boredom, carelessness, or fatigue, he hadn’t, and so he summoned the delivery person and dispatched him to Ed’s rifle club at 61, Pinnacle Road, instead of to Dorothy’s house at 61, Pine Road – two places that, although a mere two miles away from each other, were in more sense than one, a whole universe apart.

By sheer coincidence it also happened that Ed was expecting a delivery of a used handgun from the neighboring firearms federation, though the item was not supposed to be shipped till later that week.

So imagine the reaction of our bunch of alpha males, when a delivery person pulled up at Ed’s driveway and placed a parcel in Ed’s hands. Incredibly impressed by the speed of the delivery, Ed eagerly pronounced, “Look here, you all! You’re about to meet my new baby!” as he enthusiastically opened the cardboard box and retrieved, to everybody’s great amazement, a pink floral glossy handbag with two fluffy pompoms attached to the strap. The gaping and widening of eyes that followed were, of course, quite understandable under the unexpected circumstances.

Now, if our story ended right here, the astute reader might feel that the plot twist, although entertaining in and of itself, was still, at least to some degree, quite predictable.

But the thing that no one could have anticipated was Ed’s best friend’s response. Ralph was staring at the pink purse in such shock, that the cigarette fell out his mouth. He did not snigger and did not flinch when he mumbled in disbelief, “I can’t believe this, Ed! I just bought myself a purse exactly like yours a few days ago, but mine has a pattern of pastel butterflies!”

*     *

An online handbag boutique has soon thereafter reported a sharp surge in sales. Their entire collection of fuchsia purses, as well as several models with unicorns and kittens have sold out in a matter of days. Strangely, amid all these satisfied customers, there was still one refund request, following a complaint about a pink purse that had gone missing.

**Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real people or real places is purely coincidental.**