"Inventing the Future"
Author's Note: Another short chapter. Thanks, WanderingSoulofTime for this suggestion! I had to mull this one over a bit, though, to figure out how exactly this scenario should play out. The post office makes mistakes all the time, but...well, men are men. Content warning: This chapter deals with slightly risqué subject matter, but hopefully it's more humorous than salacious.
"Chapter 11: Mix-Up"
Shortly after Donny's unfortunate foray into the world of baking, a small post office was established in Veniccio, and Jaming took advantage of it by ordering some more parts for his platform. A week later, on his third day of checking to see if his package had arrived, Jaming left the post office with it in his arms.
He had to admit, though, that while the parcel was smaller than he had expected, it was deceptively heavy. As he closed the garage door behind him, he noticed something odd. The name that was written on the box was 'Jammer' instead of 'Jaming', and after a moment's consideration he decided that it was simply a typo and he used his tin snips to cut the tape. This was not, of course, the proper use for that particular tool, but it was the closest cutting instrument within reach, and he was eager to inspect the box's contents.
He opened the box, brushing aside some styrofoam packing peanuts...then quickly shut the box again in absolute shock. "Whoa!" The heat that rose in his cheeks rivaled that of the Veniccio sun. The box was full of adult magazines!
Jaming glanced around as if to make sure he was alone, then frowned at the closed box on which his badly-trembling hands rested. "Well...that's something you don't expect to see every day..."
A good many somethings, in fact. How in the world had he gotten a box of...of those instead of the machine parts he had ordered? There must have been some sort of mistake. Yes! The name on the box was very much like his own, but it wasn't exactly the same. Of course! Someone must have been in a hurry, and delivered these magazines to the wrong person.
'Won't he be disappointed when he opens his box and finds some modified speakers and a circuit board...'
How very tedious! Now Jaming would have to tape up the box once more, bring it all the way back to the post office, see that it's mailed to the correct recipient, and try to locate his own parcel.
Jaming drummed his fingers nervously on top of the box as he glanced around for some packing tape. The image he had so briefly glimpsed seemed to be seared into the backs of his eyes, which drifted speculatively back to focus on the box once more. "Hm..."
There was no one around. Who was to know? "I suppose there's no harm in taking a quick peek..."
With a slightly guilty expression, Jaming glanced around again before opening the box and leafing through the magazine that rested at the top of the stack. Predictably, though, this indiscretion backfired and he abruptly dropped the magazine back into the box, swept a handful of packing peanuts over it, put the box up on a high shelf, and made a beeline for the ocean. Praying that he would encounter no one on the way (or that if he did, they wouldn't happen to glance down), he muttered to himself, "That water had better be freezing..."
He waded into the surf, fully clothed, and dove beneath the surface. The water was bracingly (and blessedly!) cold, and in between thoughts of, 'Why did I look at that?', 'Meredith has those...', and 'Gaaaah, stop thinking about it!', his raging hormones finally calmed down.
As he left the ocean, he mused, 'It would seem that a life of repression can have some rather embarrassing consequences.'
After making a stop at his tree house home to dry off and change his clothes, Jaming found Meredith sitting in his garage with a box on her lap. For one awful moment he thought that she had found the box of illicit material, but then he realized that the box she held was bigger, and the other box was still on the shelf. "Meredith...hello."
"Hi," she smiled, "I wouldn't normally walk in, but you left the door open, so I figured you'd be back in a few minutes. I was just getting my mail, and the postman said that this came for you. He said you were there earlier, but he thinks he gave you the wrong box."
Boy, did he ever!
Jaming gave a nervous, rather high-pitched laugh, and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. Right after he had smoothed it down, it sprang stubbornly back up, reminding him uncomfortably of something else. "Ehehehe! Yes, I uh, found that out." Then he cleared his throat, and tried to sound casual. "You didn't happen to open the one they sent by mistake, did you?"
She squinted one eye a bit and slowly shook her head. "Nooo...why?"
"Oh, no reason," he said airily.
Meredith's face slowly morphed into a rather shrewd expression. Then she shrugged, probably having assumed something that was pretty close to the truth if the mischievous glint in her eye was any indication, but she only said, "Oookay. Well, I'll see you later."
Jaming kept a look of utmost innocence plastered on his face as he saw her out, and when he softly shut the door after her he methodically tapped his forehead three times against it and chanted under his breath, "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."
Blushing furiously, he went to tape the box filled with naughty reading material absolutely shut. It was time to run an errand to the post office. Without peeking this time!