Toy Water Gun
By: Alima Mootoo
I watch the dock slowly slip away from the cargo ship. Turning to face the rest of the crew, I grimace. At only seven in the morning we are on our way. I absentmindedly listen to the captain’s speech, his words going in through one ear and out the other. As my consciousness resurfaces, just before Captain’s final words, I hear his stern warnings about being careful on the job and with items. I snort. Nothing exciting ever happens on these ships.
Walking alongside James, my partner, I walk towards the first shipping containers on our inventory list. Our job is to ensure that all cargo is secure and safe aboard the ship. My feet reluctantly carry me into the first container, and I begin to work, triple checking everything to make sure I don’t make any mistakes.
A cold liquid splashes against my neck. I squint at James, “Stop fooling around,” I warn. Moments later, another stream of liquid soaks my shirt. “James, cut it out!” I screech as I turn in the direction the liquid came from.
My eyes widen with horror at the sight of an airy figure of a woman with her finger pressed firmly against the trigger of a bright orange toy water gun. With a big smirk plastered on her face, she mouths a “hello.”
“Ghoooooooost!” I scream, running past a confused James and out of the shipping container in a blink of the eye.