Sir CH is a military veteran who first started writing when he was enlisted as a way to pass time when he served overseas. As a child, he was always told that he makes good stories, but never thought to actually try and become a full time writer. When he’s not spending time with his family, you will find him studying his craft or working on completing his first novel.
“Honey, can you check the door?” said Carol.
“I didn’t hear the doorbell ring,” Dan shouted from upstairs.
“I heard shuffling and then someone knocked hun.”
“Well, can you get it?”
“I can,” she danced in front of the stove, “that’s if you like eating brunt fish,” Carol said as she sipped her wine.
Dan loved his fish and he didn’t like it brunt. Sacrifices had to made in order for him to keep his tasty dinner for tonight. He stood at the top of the stairs staring at the thick brown oak wood door. Who would knock on the door at this time of night? Better yet, who knocks anymore anyway? People ring doorbells nowadays.
Dan has seen too many movies. He knows that anyone who knocks on a door is up to no good. It means they’re there to take action on someone. Friends, family, friendly neighbors, and delivery people will ring the doorbell. Assassins will knock on the door. It’s so they can keep a low profile to not alert everyone in the house. That way they could take their time eliminating everyone one by one.
“Well not today Mr. Assassin,” Dan said to himself. “April loves her new doll house, Tyler loves his new hot wheels set, Carol loves the wine set I just bought her, and my new seventy-inch TV loves me.”
Dan put his shoes on first. He didn’t want any distractions while fighting the assassin. If he stubbed even one toe while he fought, then that will be it. He wouldn’t be able to fight. A stubbed finger he could deal with, but a stubbed toe was pain that the devil wished upon you.
Dan stood at the door, fist balled, he took deep breaths. He looked through the peep hole first and didn’t see anyone. He quickly moved his head realizing that was a rookie mistake. In the movies, usually he would’ve been staring down the other end of a gun barrel.
He stared at his reflection in the shiny chrome door knob. Here we go! He thought to himself. He opened the door and no one was there. Down in front of him, at his feet, a small brown package. Stained with grease marks and taped tightly around the corners with brown tape.
“A bomb!” he said.
Dan booted the packaged from his front door and it splattered in the middle of the street busting open. Dan stood on his front porch staring at the package in tunnel vision. Then he heard a voice.
“Good evening, sir,”
His tunnel vision faded, and a white delivery van came in view parked in his drive way. A guy in a black polo shirt with a big yellow A printed on the front stared at him.
“A-A-Amazing delivery service, sir,” The guy said nervously.
Dan eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He eased his front door closed and ran to the street where the packaged had landed. Cookies where on the ground in the middle of where the packaged busted open. He remembered Carol saying something about her aunt shipping some of her special homemade chewy gooey white chocolate chip cookies. It was only her favorite cookies that she hasn’t had in almost three years. She said it while he was watching James Bond movies on his new TV.
Dan scooped the cookies up and placed them inside the delivery van. The delivery guy tried to stop him, telling him that he couldn’t do that.
“Listen my guy,” Dan said to the delivery guy. “Both of our lives are in danger now. Actually, the moment I kicked that package of cookies, every single soul that lives on this block became in danger. You have to go. Here is a hundred, you never came here.”
“But, sir, I can’t…”
Dan reached down in his pocket. “Make it four hundred and you’re out of here.”
The delivery guy snatched the money. “Leaving.”
Dan watched the delivery man pull out of his drive way. As the white van turned the corner, the front door opened.
“Foods almost ready, baby,” Carol said stepping out. “What are you doing out here? Was someone at the door?”
“Uh, no,” Dan said scratching his head. “The Blake boys again trying to play ding dong ditch. Tell Tyler to get his sling shot, I have a mission for him.”
Carol rolled her eyes, “Leave them boys alone, Dan,” she said looking down the street. “I’m surprised my aunt’s cookies didn’t come today. She said she paid for next day express shipping. Maybe tomorrow,” she shrugged.
“Yeah, hopefully,” Dan said. “Let’s go back inside, I’ll get the kids ready to eat.”