Rick answered the door bell with no expectations at all. But when he saw the uniform he fought the urge to run, but this one wasn’t blue with a badge---just a postal worker holding out a UPS letter.
Rick was told that this was a classified letter, First Class and it needed his signature on the green card to verify letter had been received. With shaking hands, Rick signed his name, taking the envelope.
Falling onto the stained couch, Rick cleared the beer cans and mirrors off the table in one sweep. This is one serious letter, man. Serious m….f….g serious. Tearing the tab across cardboard, Rick pulled out a regular envelope. Lookit! My name typed ‘n everything! Return address was a local Ford Dealer. What the f#*)--Ford?
Then the letter…a real honest letter, with stuff about an award, with his personal number—03984…honored to win his very own 2016 Mustang…Holy crap! This is real….
My own Mustang…no s*$^?...Rick dropped his head between his knees, contemplating throwing up or passing out. Sure as h*&& did that last night—all over this dump.
Directions indicated prize winners… Winners?...were to check in by 2 pm today…Today?...to allow recipients time to tour the car lot filled with mustangs of all colors.
The drawing would be…Today? Rick stripped off stained torn clothes, found the cleanest spread over the floor, and raced out to his ‘cylce. Start, dammit! Start! With a roar, off went Rick, off to pick out his own Mustang.
About twenty men roamed around the car lot filled with sharp cool fast Mustangs. Rick joined them, each reverently touching cars from end to end, roof to undercarriage. Hot sun baked each man, none cared; After all…Mustangs!
When a bald man, gut hangin over his belt, called numbers, checking them off. Nodding abruptly, he explained, “You guys! Lissen up! Your number called, you come up with your letter, and we’ll get outta this damn heat. Inside we’ll make sure you’re who you say you are.” Nodding again, he called the first number. “O4669?”
Gut guy and 04669 disappeared inside. Minutes passed, Gut emerged, called out 06322, and the process went on until only Rick was left, clutching his letter, 03984, precious 03984. Letitbemeletitbeme…
Finally, 03984 was called. His heart pounded in his chest, Here! It’s my number. The door opened into the show room, and Rick’s mouth all but dropped. Lincoln, Mustangs…I could make big bucks lifting these…
But then, Rick was taken to another room, where a ring of badges anticipated his arrival. One grabbed Rick, cuffed him, and read the Miranda Rights.
A big white bus awaited him, filled with all the other award winners, grumbling and shocked. Just like him.
Mustangs grew small as the bus drove away. I coulda won the cool black one, with the racing stripe. Yup, I woulda picked that one.
This story is actually true and has been used as a way to round up criminals with outstanding warrants. Worked every time. The Simpson Show even had an episode with this idea.
Sorry this is sooooo long. Not my style at all.
This Wednesday, Make every moment count has posted 6 to 12 words to be used by any blogger who wish to enjoy a break from the serious stuff. Use these words to write fiction, prose, poetry, flash fiction, etc. Either post it on your own site and link it back to Every Moment or make your addition to her blog site comment section.
The underlined bold italicized words are this week's words. Hope you enjoyed how they were used.
Go on with it! Fling yourself out into the unknown!