I own nothing recognizable. Cookies if you guess how the Transformers will be involved before I post the chapter that explains
I stared.
I was utterly floored.
Where the hell had these orders come from? I checked the name line. My boss of the highest level's name jumped out at me and I gaped again, bug-eyed.
Swallowing, I managed to get myself under some semblance of control. Well, as irregular as these orders were, as little sense as they made, I couldn't refuse them.
That resolved, I shoved the papers in my satchel and gave the unnervingly-sized crate – it looked like a coffin, and I hadn't been entirely reassured by the additional paperwork that it wasn't – a last, fish-eyed look before grabbing my bicycle from the corner and wheeling it outside. That was another thing – I saved a lot of money using my trusty old Schwinn, but to transport that damned crate I'd have to rent a car. I sighed; I'd deal with that later. As soon as I hit the pavement, I hopped on my bike and started pedaling furiously. I'd have to be fast, if I wanted to mail this letter before the local Post Office closed for the evening.