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Zipper slunk down against the leg of the table and cried out, ‘Stop, this is outrageous,’ forgetting the man couldn’t understand him. Zipper was fond of Lilah, the beauty case. He felt her blush.
The others stuffed his body with small, rectangular bags. Zipper’s instincts sensed danger. He noticed a cluttered bench with glass containers and strange objects. He couldn’t explain why he suddenly wobbled. He became lethargic, his inner fabric now damp with moisture. He dozed. For a moment, he was hanging out with three gorgeous beauty cases, then he grew limbs and could run and leap until giant insects with snapping jaws were ripping him apart. Reeling, Zipper awoke, finding his covering stiff. If he survived, this was a story for his memoirs. He imagined Blot at his side recording his escapades.
Six uniformed enforcers armed with rifles suddenly burst through the door. Gunshots penetrated the air. The leader and his men dropped to the floor. Within seconds, the gang were handcuffed and dragged away. The bags were removed from Zipper’s interior. The commander opened a bag and tasted the powder with his finger.
Zipper was still listless when an enforcer tossed him out onto the road. A building worker from a nearby site grabbed him and took Zipper to his home.
Destiny
Zipper became a brick carrier. He was grateful to have a new owner, but he missed Becky, Blot and his world. The backpack didn’t want to exist like this. His backside was stained with grease marks and he was covered in mortar dust. His nylon fabric was stretched, several teeth from his zip were broken and his stories, now faded memories. Suddenly, he had a vision of Blot, then his friend disappeared.
