Short Stories
A Load of Empty Boxes

Ida was licensed to operate the big ones. A trucker; her aging rig'd eaten thousands of miles, hauling everything from pork bellies to Porsches. Now she had a gig with the Scruem moving company- the order came from the boss himself, Mr. Cramenberry. 999 empty cardboard boxes were desperately needed in the heartland. Orphanages shutting down.

Ain't that a cryin' shame, Ida thought. She had a heart of gold. But she knew her duty. She had a job to do. No questions asked. They could count on Ida to go the distance. She packed a few things for the trip; inspirational music to keep her spirits up, her favourite fudge for snacks and her cellphone. She didn't need much.  

Several states flew by, the occassional traffic. A school bus full of screaming kids parked its fat butt, so she couldn't pass, what with the lights blinking and all. The children slowly got off, trying Ida's patience. I got places to be, she thought, and honked her horn, hollering out the window, "Oh, for Christ's sake!"   Soon her rubber was rolling again and she happily sang along, the "Holy Toddler's Choir", an unearthly beauty that warmed her heart. "Hallelujah", sang Ida, as she thought, how the hell do they get them three year olds to harmenize and all that? She took a few bites of chocolate fudge and wondered. Ida owned every tape they put out- 5 cents of which went to hungry and homeless children.  

Suddenly, some crackhead on a motorcycle came whizzing up in her blindspot. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!", screamed Ida," I oughtta report that bastard!" She squinted at the license plate, trying to see, but all she could read was, "children first" and he disappeared over the hill. Crazy sons a bitches, grumbled Ida.   She was on an unfamiliar highway, so she fiddled with a crumpled map, and then her cell rang. It was Cramenberry, of course, wanting to know how soon she'd make her destination. "They gotta have them boxes!", he yelled. Poor reception cut them off when Ida noticed she was just passing her entrance ramp-the arrow pointed to a black and white sign, "Head Up Ass" ."Crap", Ida fussed. "I missed it!"  

Lights signaling right, she threw the wideload in reverse, and backed up slowly. Both eyes scratching the pavement behind her, licking sticky fingers, she gripped the wheel. She turned down those infernal tots, so, she could pay better attention. Her big rig swayed up the ramp at last. It was getting dark and she'd call it a night before too long.   She noticed the road grew more and more lonely. No cars passed her and no sign of a motel to be seen. She drove on a low bridge between two black looming mountains, the night lowering a dense fog. Her headlights shot yellow beams, light the thick mist swallowed and she couldn't see ahead the pavement was ending.

Suddenly she realised, she was driving in mud. Trying to get her bearings, she hit the brakes and felt a strange movement from behind. She'd lost her load.   With absolute dread, she dialed Mr. Cramenberry. Furious, spittin' teeth, he asked what route she'd taken. "Just the way you told me, Sir, the ramp, "Head Up Ass". " Godammit, woman!!! Didn't you turn after?" "Well, no, she whined, Ida done it, if you told me." Cramenberry's face looked as red as a smacked pig. "That was a damned big account, Ida! Now them orphans can't be put on the street 'til next Tuesday! Jesus! "Scruem" might just go down the toliet because of you!!!" Then he slammed the phone down. Looking up into the heavens, Ida asked, " Oh, Lord, what have I done? " and wept.