Short Story

I had fun writing this one. It's nice to be able to sit and write a short story again and not have to think too hard about it. Reminds me of when I started this blog.


Quincy Hobson was a very secretive individual. He lived alone in a motor home parked in various Lowes parking lots. He liked the Lowes parking lots because they were the ones least trafficked by security. And for Quincy, the less law enforcement, the better.

Quincy was a notoriously underhanded individual. He engaged in all sorts of illegal activities. Nothing too extreme, just small stuff like stealing cable and internet, petty theft, the small crimes that he thought were "easy to get away with."

He didn't need to steal anything at all. In fact he had a well paying job in internet security. He worked for the city and was payed well. He just didn't want to spend any money. In fact, the only thing he ever spent money on was gas to fill his motor home.

One day off, Quincy was awoken by someone knocking on his motor home door. No doubt security checking to see if anyone was in the motor home. He threw on the first set of cloths and walked over and answered the door.

There was a delivery man with a thick beard in an all white suit. Behind parked was his delivery van.

"Are you Quincy Hobson?" he asked.

"Who wants to know?" Quincy said more than concerned.

"Delivery." said the man and he handed Quincy a small box and walked away.

Quincy opened the package and found a single note. "I'm coming."

He crumpled up the paper and went about his usual illicit activities.

The next day there was another knock on the door. Quincy opened the door to find the same delivery man and his same delivery van.

"Are you Quincy Hobson?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Delivery." said the man. He handed Quincy a slightly larger package and walked away.

Confused Quincy opened this new package. Inside was a slightly larger note. "I'll be there soon."

Feeling a little nervous and a bit annoyed, Quincy decided to move his motor home to the next Lowes parking lot.

The next morning there was a knock on the door. Quincy opened the door to find the same delivery man with the same delivery van.

"Are you Quincy Hobson?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Delivery." said the man and he handed a large box to Quincy and left.

Quincy opened the box and found a single note inside. "I'm on my way."

Quincy was starting to feel more nervous. Who was sending these packages and why?

The next morning the same delivery man with the same delivery van knocked on the door.

"Are you Quincy Hobson."

"Do you have another package for me?"

"Delivery." said the man and he handed Quincy an even larger box and left.

Once again Quincy opened the box and found a single note. "I know where you live."

More than a little bit spooked Quincy decided to up root his motor home. He drove to the next town over and parked in the back parking lot of a McDonalds. "No one will find me here." he thought. "Not only and I in a different town, but I'm parked in a different parking lot all together!"

The next day there was a knock on the door. The Delivery man with his delivery van stood there waiting.

"Are you Quincy Hobson?"

"Go away! I don't want it!" Quincy yelled.

"Delivery." said the man and he handed Quincy an very large package and left.

Quincy took and his motor home to a camp grounds several hours out of the way. That night he burned the package without ever opening it. He called his work and told them he wouldn't be in for a while. Being so far away Quincy felt safe.

The next morning there was a knock on the door. The same delivery man and the same delivery van were waiting outside next to a enormous cardboard box.

"Are you Quincy Hobson?"

"No!"

"Delivery." said the man and he left the enormous package.

Quincy eyed it suspiciously before he opening it finally. Inside was two notes. The first read, "Don't burn any more of my packages." the second read. "I'll be there tomorrow."

Scared beyond belief Quincy decided to drive as far away as he possibly could. He jumped into his motor home and immediately headed as far west as he could.

The night fell and Quincy was still driving. He hadn't stopped for hours and now he was starting to get tired. "I can't stop!" he thought to himself. "I need to keep going! I can't let anyone find me!" He kept driving late into the night. And as the sun was rising he was still driving.

Feeling safe at last Quincy sighed with relief. There was no way anyone could find him all the way out here. As the security of distance was beginning to set in the motor home sputtered and came to a stop at the side of the road. It was out of gas.

Quincy went outside to look around and see if he could see a gas station he could walk to on the horizon. He peered down the road and to his horror he saw the same white delivery van.

As the delivery van got closer it slowed to a stop behind him. Out stepped the same delivery man. He went to the back of the van and pulled out a small wooden crate and brought it to Quincy.

"Are you Quincy Hobson?" asked the man.

"Before you give me the package. I have to know. Who is sending these? What do they want? What's going on!? Why is it always you!?"

"Delivery." Said the man and he set down the wooden crate and drove off.

Quincy stared at the wooden crate. Something was moving around inside. he could feel the sweat dripping down his cheek. Finally the madness of not knowing gripped him. He ran into the motor home, found a crow bar and ripped open the crate.

Inside was a small kitten accompanied by a single note.

"I'm here!" was written on one said of the note. Confused Quincy checked the other side.

"Pet Delivery. To be delivered to Quin. C Hobbs son."