Quite the delay, there, sorry about that. Life reared its ugly head, and schoolwork takes priority, you realize. Here's chapter eight, for your enjoyment.
France's replacement manuel came within two days, along with Switzerland, whom nearly got me reported to my landlord when he burst out of his crate, having already discovered that his bullets were blanks. The resulting fight chipped my hockey stick (which was really the only 'weapon' I had) and cracked the glass of my shadow box.
It was a heavy, wooden-frame thing that weighed close to 100lbs, and contained my jersey from my high school hockey days, a patch given to our team for winning second place in the league tournament, a 'zero club' patch (awarded to goalies for a game with no goals against), my letter, two pins, and a few team pictures. The weight was mostly frame, but finding another piece of glass large enough to fit it was an expensive venture.
After that, things settled down. Canada took a job with a nearby hockey rink, and quickly became one of the favored coaches there. France found a job with a catering company inside the city. It was a bit of a drive from the apartment, but soon enough he was able to trade cabbie pick-ups for transportation of his own. Switzerland became my unofficial financial advisor, and cracked down on my frivolous spending (and I had quite the nasty habit of it).
I finally had to tell my parents that I had three new roomies, but they were surprisingly alright with it. Dad was just happy that they were chipping in with the rent (which really did alleviate some financial stresses), though Mom worried a bit at first, since the new roomies were all guys. She came down to visit for a few days, and though she had to share my bed while she stayed (a little awkward, but she's still my mother), she ended up approving, and left happy.
I finished my accelerated college course (after finally settling on compositing for my division) within six months of Switzerland's arrival, and graduated my Bachelor's degree. Unit delivery had stopped after Switzerland, and though we weren't sure why, I was alright with it (as I was out of open beds, and all). Once I'd graduated, we boxed up the apartment, loaded up the cars and a rented truck, and trekked 900 miles back to my native Pennsylvania.
Not nearly as many job opportunities there as in, say, California, but the cost of living was much lower than either Cali or Orlando, it was much closer to home, and my father had a slew of clients who were happy to have a compositor put together free ads and commercials for them. Free work brings no money, but it does bring publicity, and it builds my resume. Once I had that all padded, I could start charging.
With my sister off to college nearby, and me being all grown up now, my parents moved out of our family home and downgraded to a smaller home in a close by development, alongside a few of their friends. They agreed to keep the family home, and rent it out to me and my 'companions' (whom I argued needed a place to stay, and all had job transfers in the area). The four bedroom, two bath house (with nearly eighteen places to sleep, if you counted the attic, couches, basement and air mattress) was a much better accommodation than the cluttered two bed, two bath we'd shared in Florida.
Apparently, Flying Mint Bunny Co. thought so too, because within a week of us settling in back home, their truck pulled into the drive.
I was home alone with Nunavut when they arrived. Canada and France were both at work, and Switzerland was off interviewing for a position of his own with an accounting firm in nearby West Chester. Nunavut started barking as soon as the truck pulled in, and I had to wrestle him away from the door before I answered it. The delivery man came out from behind the box with a bright smile, and while he wasn't Dan, he seemed cheery enough.
"Good morning, Ms. Rhoads!" The man smiled. "I've got a delivery for you!" I found myself raising an eyebrow.
"That took a while." I commented, only realizing how rude that sounded after it had read my lips. The delivery man smiled sheepishly.
"Well, it's actually company policy to only send as many units as the receiver has spare beds. We calculated that, since you already had a pet, you only had about two to three spare beds, and you'd mentioned in conversation with Dan, when he dropped off your third unit, that you were planning to move to a bigger place. So, we put a hold on your deliveries until that occurred." He explained, still smiling. I could only stare. I remembered that conversation, and that policy was…..brilliant, but kind of big-brotherish…
"So….how many units am I getting, total?" I ventured as the delivery man held out the clipboard for me to sign.
"Only about seven, total." He replied. "We don't usually send more than that to any one person, unless they specifically request it. Seven units is usually about as much as people can handle." I propped open the doors (storm door and inner) and shooed Nunavut back into the kitchen as the delivery man wrestled the crate up over the threshold, and wheeled it into the living room. He tipped his hat to me as he walked out. "Good luck." He smiled. I watched the truck maneuver around the driveway's turnaround, and looked back to the crate as the man went on his way.
"Alright…." I stood on my toes to reach the smaller box taped to the top of the crate. "Let's see who you are…"
Not quite sure who should be next. Any suggestions?