JUICE

Diane’s day began as it always did, with the buzzing of the alarm. This morning though, a different sound intruded on her still fuzzy dreamworld. A far away pounding sound… drums? Pounding… was somebody building something? Pounding… knocking… knocking on something… Her front door!!

Diane threw off the covers and grabbed her robe, scooting into her slippers on as she headed toward the door.

“Hi!” said the sweaty, scruffy, but not altogether un-handsome man with a cowboy hat who stood on her stoop. He kept darting a glance behind him as he stood there holding something wrapped in brown paper.  “Take this.” He said with a smile. Then he was gone before Diane could refuse, or ask why.

She turned the object in her hands, feeling it’s heft, as she looked for any kind of clue on the paper wrapping. She shook it gently, but whatever was inside, it wasn’t giving away any secrets. What should she do? She was torn between wondering what was inside, and wondering who that stranger was, and why he chose her to be the bearer of this mystery.

She put the package on the table beside the door, half thinking that whoever it was would maybe come back for whatever he’d left. As the day wore on, Diane passed by the object on the table, stopping every now and then to pick it up again, and turn it over and over in her hands.

It was noon now, and in the middle of spreading peanut butter on bread, she put down her half made sandwich, and strode determinedly to the package. She picked it up and carefully picked at the tape which held one end closed. The tape resisted her nail, and once a corner had begun to lift, she hurriedly put the package down where it had been. She bit her lip, and stared at the package for a long time, before returning to her lunch.

Not quite an hour had passed before Diane was back in front of the brown mysterious object. She reached out her hand, then slowly pulled it back. Turned half a step, then abruptly whirled around and snatched the package from the table top. She returned to the half lifted piece of tape, slid her finger under it and pulled.

Just then, another pounding on the door, jolted her from her mischief. She quickly placed the box back on the table top, smoothing the loosened tape down. She put on her brightest smile, then opened the door.

“Give it to me” ordered a tall overweight man in a soiled wife-beater. He looked behind him, quickly, then returning his gaze in her direction, breathing heavily, he repeated, “Give it!”

Diane, still smiling brightly, raised her eyebrows in mock bewilderment. “What?”

“The juice, the JUICE!” the man sputtered.

Diane reached her arm out to the package, “This?” she asked. Then, swiftly, and with true aim, she sent the package sailing over his head into the outstretched arms of the man in the cowboy hat.