World Traveler, or Smuggler? Molly didn't know what she was getting into. (standard:adventure, 4019 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jul 02 2020	Views/Reads: 1373/966	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Travel agent Molly McGuire dreamt about traveling but didn’t have the money. A chance meeting changed her fate.

An alarm clock buzzed in the dark, waking Molly McGuire. Reaching over,
she slammed her right hand and arm across a bedside table, knocking a 
half-empty water glass over onto and into her open purse, sitting on a 
chair below.  A full ashtray followed, spilling onto table, floor, and 
also inside said purse. A lamp, hit by the ashtray, tumbled to the 
floor, breaking itself and its enclosed bulb.  That was Molly McGuire.  
She never seemed to get anything right. 

Her coffeepot was on a timer, happily perking away as Molly dressed and
readied herself for her job as a travel agent.  Of course, with her 
luck, she'd neglected to put coffee grounds into the pot. 

"One of these days," she told herself, looking for emergency instant
coffee and finding the bottle empty. "One of these days my luck is 
bound to change." 

She set off for work, giving herself plenty of time due to expected
troubles.  On the way to her auto, Molly walked into a large stepladder 
on the sidewalk outside, which caused it to shake violently.  A sign 
painter on top dropped his brush while lunging for a window ledge to 
keep from falling.  The paint-soaked brush dropped to the street, 
hitting a dog on the butt.  The dog had been busily spraying a fire 
hydrant. 

It's pee arced out and hit her left leg as she was recovering her
balance.  She, in reflex, shook her leg.  That action overbalanced her 
and she fell on the dog.  The dog nipped at her and ran into a nearby 
street.  Elmore Thompson swerved his new Cadillac to avoid hitting the 
dog.  Elmore, in turn, sideswiped Molly's Ford, scrapped loudly along 
its side before coming to a stop. 

In the aftermath, the dog managed to cross the street, the painter
recovered his equilibrium.  Molly regained her feet, and an irate 
Elmore left his vehicle to shake his fist at the dog.  The painter was 
doing the same to Molly while screaming in some obscure Eastern 
European language.  All a resort of Molly's escapism, her boredom with 
life and the resultant inattention to reality. 

She spent her free time watching movies of far away places and reading
travel magazines.  At work. she could often be found sitting at her 
desk, staring into space.  A series of minor -- mostly from inattention 
-- accidents had cost her almost all her driving points.  Two more 
points and her license would be suspended. 

Molly's days were spent in daydreaming, and her nights in actually
dreaming, of a life spent in transit, visiting far away places and 
foreign climes.  Poor Molly had never been out of New York City in her 
life. 

She worked at a travel agency, taking other people's money to send them
on glorious foreign excursions.  Places she could never hope to see. 

Hearing the shriek of rending metal on her car, Molly turned and
confronted the cursing Elmore. 

“Where the hell did you learn to drive, you asshole?”  Molly asked,
walking around her dented auto. 

“That damn dog made me do it,”  Elmore told her. 

“Don't you dare blame a poor little doggie for your own stupid driving.”


Being a native New Yorker, she had already forgotten the dog had peed on
her and caused her to start the entire charade.  He was a nice-looking 
and expensively dressed man though, she thought. 

“I'm sorry, young lady.  It was my own fault,” Elmore admitted.  I
always liked small redheads, he thought.  “Just give me a figure to fix 
it and I'll write you a check.” 

“Oh, no, you don't.  We have to call the police.”  With only two points
left on her license, she didn't want to take any chances at all.  “I'll 
go in that restaurant and use the telephone.  You wait right here.” 



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