Creative Writing: Ganderville's 'Chump'

Improved Essays
I am such an chump. Ganderville, Tennessee has never before produced a human being as dimwitted as me, and that is saying something. But I probably picked the wrong time to show it. I mean, who forgets to pick up their suitcase after a 7 hour plane trip to Baja, California? Only me, that’s who! And even though I am stupid, I will definitely be dead by the end of this fiasco. My cousin will come at me like a nest of hornets, and not to mention my diabolical Aunt Mary. Even though I haven’t seen her since I had walked, no crawled, this earth for three years, the egregious stories were enough to keep me away for the next thirteen years. That suitcase contained my life, my failures and everything in between. Until the funeral, my mom had always stocked it with my belongings to prepare it for my dad’s house. It had my new rose gold iPhone, and my collectors edition baseball cards.This briefcase is my childhood, and my connection to my past. Plus, I would be really vacuous if I let go of my $456 dollars worth of baseball cards. No matter what, I have to reclaim my suitcase. I would never forgive myself for losing this, and I doubt Aunt Mary would either. ‘Where can I go for help? I need to resolve my predicament, before I become the next course for the family dinner.’ My thoughts were a storm and my mind was raging as I brainstormed various solutions to my newfound dilemma. The answer lay right in front of me. Or actually, it stood right in front me, and it came in the form of an information booth. I ran towards the information desk, and asked them the first of many questions dancing around in my brain, “Um... Excuse Me? Do you know what happens to bags that are not picked up by their owners?” I asked frantically, hoping he could give me at least a clue on what to do or where to go. “I don’t know exactly where it goes, but chances are that someone picked it up by accident. What color is it? And do you have …show more content…
“Come to think of it, there was a man dressed in black with a leather jacket that passed with a suitcase like that. He had leather boots on too. It did seem ---”
I cut him off right there.
“Thanks,” I dashed off, without giving him a chance to say anymore.
Using my less than superior logic, I dashed to terminal C. If my cousin was to pick me up, than she would pick me up there. That means that the perpetrator would have to be picked up there as well.
As I passed through the exit to the terminal, my head was down in shame. Disappointment flooded my senses like a tsunami.
As I was nearing the end of my walk of shame, my eyes passed over what seemed like an infinite amount of shoes. But one caught my eyes. They were a pair of Timberland hiking boots, probably leather.
When I saw these, my eyes traveled up the man’s clothing. A bowler hat, leather jacket, and tight black pants.
Then he noticed me looking at him, and he turned to do the same.
After what was the longest two seconds of my life, he started walking towards me. I froze in place, unable to move in the slightest. When he spoke, I shivered with fear. I felt the insatiable urge to yell “Stranger Danger!”.
Luckily, I kept it under control. His eyes searched through my soul, reading me like a

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