Éponine Thénardier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
filleauloup) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2014-05-20 10:00 am
filleauloup) wrote in fandomtownies2014-05-20 10:00 am
Entry tags:
Fandom Post Office, May 20 (Tuesday)
Éponine was used to parcels of various sizes and completely random, bizarre shapes coming through the post office every day, and despite her innate curiosity she actually managed to resist the temptation to find out what was inside.
But today there was an entire sorting bin full of small plastic pouches, all of which rattled to some extent as if they all contained small bits of plastic or metal (or both), all of which were vaguely lumpy, all of which had the Isle of IKEA as a return address. And really, how was a girl supposed to sort all of those without wanting to know what was inside? Was it really reasonable to expect her not to give in and open one of them just to see? She could always claim that particular package had gotten ripped open en route before it even arrived in Fandom. She wouldn't even take any of the contents!
. . . all things considered, it was impressive that she'd held out until the middle of the day.
She was just about to "accidentally" open one of the envelopes (temptation probably fueled by the jumbo iced mocha picked up on her lunch break) when a customer came in and tossed one of the packets onto the counter, crankily wanting to know where it had come from, because they definitely hadn't ordered it, and what were they supposed to do with these things, anyway?
Well. It was open already. That saved her the trouble! When Éponine dumped the contents of the pouch into her hand, she found several allen wrenches, some strange little bits of metal, tiny plastic L-shaped brackets, and a short wooden dowel with a split running halfway down its middle.
"Good lord, what's anyone at all supposed to do with these things anyway?" she called toward the front door, already swinging shut behind the customer who'd left in a huff.
Too bad the answer to that question probably lay with whichever unfortunate person, somewhere in the world or probably the greater Baltimore metropolitan area, just had their bed fall apart on them.
But today there was an entire sorting bin full of small plastic pouches, all of which rattled to some extent as if they all contained small bits of plastic or metal (or both), all of which were vaguely lumpy, all of which had the Isle of IKEA as a return address. And really, how was a girl supposed to sort all of those without wanting to know what was inside? Was it really reasonable to expect her not to give in and open one of them just to see? She could always claim that particular package had gotten ripped open en route before it even arrived in Fandom. She wouldn't even take any of the contents!
. . . all things considered, it was impressive that she'd held out until the middle of the day.
She was just about to "accidentally" open one of the envelopes (temptation probably fueled by the jumbo iced mocha picked up on her lunch break) when a customer came in and tossed one of the packets onto the counter, crankily wanting to know where it had come from, because they definitely hadn't ordered it, and what were they supposed to do with these things, anyway?
Well. It was open already. That saved her the trouble! When Éponine dumped the contents of the pouch into her hand, she found several allen wrenches, some strange little bits of metal, tiny plastic L-shaped brackets, and a short wooden dowel with a split running halfway down its middle.
"Good lord, what's anyone at all supposed to do with these things anyway?" she called toward the front door, already swinging shut behind the customer who'd left in a huff.
Too bad the answer to that question probably lay with whichever unfortunate person, somewhere in the world or probably the greater Baltimore metropolitan area, just had their bed fall apart on them.
Mod Your Post Office [5/20]
Talk to Éponine [5/20]
OOC [FPO 5/20]