Thread by @TheThreadTweets

THE DELIVERY - a Twitter Tale for Halloween
(Just follow the thread . .)

Your Driver is 4 Stops Away

I blink at the tiny, blurred letters dancing around my phone screen.
Then at the map below.
Then at the empty vodka bottle below that.
Oh crap, what have I bought this time?

BANGBANGBANG
“What?” I cry “I haven’t got the TV on! I haven’t even got the bloody toaster on!”
The banging stops.
Outside my head at least.
I slip off the sofa and stumble to the kitchen where I wash down a palmful of pills with a small glass of water and a large glass of whisky

Your Driver is 3 Stops Away

I stare at my phone until a small dot comes into focus sitting on a road half a mile away. My eyes swim lazily round the screen but nothing tells me what to expect.
How bad can it be?
Quite bad actually, given the state of my head and the living room.

BANGBANGBANG!

Again?
The only good thing about living in this crappy old terraced house is my neighbour is an octogenarian widow - no pounding music, screaming infants or domestic squabbles. Now suddenly I can’t breathe without her bony knuckles hammering their disapproval!

I stagger over to the wall and thump my heavy fist in reply.
The silence brings the faintest of smiles to my sweat-drenched face and I collapse back onto the sofa.

Your Driver is 2 Stops Away

Where is he now? Hmmm, Loomis Street. Hurry up mate, I need some fresh air. And bacon

I kill half an hour checking emails, football results and whatever Twitter’s furious about at the moment before finally turning on the TV, making sure I keep the volume down to avoid a further brain-bashing from old Mrs Whatsername.
Hmmm . . . what is her name?

I flick through antiques, lie detectors and snowbound truckers before landing on the local news, the normally blank-faced presenters wearing far darker expressions than usual.
“In each case, the body was removed before the cause of death could be determined . . .”

“Neighbours report hearing banging noises shortly before the bodies . .”
I yawn and tap the Off button. At least this makes a change from Eileen celebrating her 100th with a glass of sherry and Boy Scouts sitting in baths of beans for the local hospice.
Now where’s that delivery?

I grab my phone but before I can check the map, I hear slow heavy steps outside.
I shuffle to the window and pull back the curtain.
It takes a few seconds for my bloodshot eyes to adjust to the midday light.
Then I freeze at what I see . . .

My eyes widen and my jaw tightens as I watch a dark brown coffin being slowly carried down next door’s path and loaded into the back of a gleaming black hearse.
Poor Mrs . . what IS her name? She wasn’t moaning about the noise, she was trying to get help . .

How was I to know? I’m not psychic! Why didn’t she shout instead of banging like a maniac? Now where’s that bloody delivery? I’ve been waiting all morning . . .

Your Driver is 1 Stop Away

Thank God, not long now!
Wait, that’s strange . .
The dot seems to be outside next door.

I pull back the curtain again. No sign of any delivery van, just the hearse slowly rolling down the road.
I frown down at my phone.
What the hell’s going on?
Now the dot’s outside my house.
I look up.
So is the hearse.

Suddenly my chest stiffens, my lungs tighten and icy pain floods my body.
I thump the wall hopelessly as my face burns and my head starts to swim.
And as the room darkens and I fall to the floor, the last thing I see is my phone screen . .

Your Driver Will Be With You Very Soon