It's been a tradition with me lately to begin my stories by mentioning Foot Bridge, the small pedestrian bridge that lives near Lake Claire. It may completely tear you apart to hear this, but... I can't do that now.
Partly because this particular story begins within the confines of a box of socks... and mostly because... well... they...KILLED FOOT BRIDGE! There I said it. One day Foot Bridge was there, all sturdy and rusty at the same time; Milo, his girlfriend (Tara), and I walked across it without a second thought. The next week, it was... well, it was NOT there, save for a clump of rusty rebar sticking out of the grass!
All I could do was stand there with my eyes wide, my frizzy hair blowing into them (probably causing some minor retinal damage). Luckily, no one was with me to witness this incident... except the trees... but I wasn't talking to them at that point. Besides, they had probably just stood there while some buff construction guys and some sort of dangerous machine ripped Foot Bridge to pieces.
Needless to say, I was pretty miffed. At the time, I probably used a few words that were stronger than 'miffed', but you get the idea.
Anyway, you're probably wondering why I was at Foot Bridge's residence at all (even if you're not, I'm telling you anyway, so ha ha ha ha... ha.): I was headed for PackNShip for some boxes.
Of course the fastest way to get there is by walking down to the gas station and crossing the intersection, but, since I had just graduated from the nearby high school, I figured I'd be seeing a lot less of Foot Bridge, and, therefore, I wanted to make the time I had left count.
Of course my plans were torn asunder when I ran into the wad of scrap metal that was once part of Foot Bridge.
Anyway, I did eventually make it to PackNShip. The guy at the counter stared down at me with an annoyed expression, probably wondering why a crazy girl with frizzy hair and muddy shoes was standing at his counter, sniffling.
He recited the standard greeting, as emblazoned on the back wall, "Welcome to PackNShip, what can we PackRShip for you today." Notice the lack of question mark. It corresponds with his lack of enthusiasm.
I looked up him just long enough to notice that his name tag said "Jinny". If I hadn't seen Foot Bridge's scattered remains just a few minutes earlier, I probably would have burst out laughing.
At the time, all I could manage was "I just need some boxes."
"What kinda boxes." Again, there is no question mark.
"I don't know, just some boxes." Sorry, Jinny, I'm sort of miffed right now.
"What are you planning on using them for." I was starting to think that he didn't care at all... probably because he didn't.
He ducked into the back room, leaving me to converse with the various office supplies that littered the counter. Hello pencils. Hello pens. Hello single useless staple. Of course, they didn't reply. Office supplies only talk to people who are insane... or in imminent danger.
"Are these okay." He'd returned with five or six collapsed boxes under his arm... and still no question mark.
"They're fine." I paid for my the stupid boxes with a wadded up twenty and started to leave with them, "Thanks, Jinny."
As I shoved my way through the heavy door into the sunlight, his voice followed me out, "It's Jimmy, dang it!"