Two Stories On The Theme Of The Wrong Luggage

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We often see movies in which characters accidentally end up with the wrong suitcase and get into various adventures as they evade or pursue the owners of the other luggage. I decided to create a story on this theme and ended up writing two different ones. Story One – Contents Of The Case It’s money, lots of money, mostly crumpled dollar bills, unsequential. They look real enough, if they are counterfeited they are perfect fakes. I’m tempted to keep them. I guess I must have picked up the wrong case at the airport terminal, because it looks quite similar to mine. Still, with all this dough, I’ll be able to buy all the clothes I need right here in downtown Chicago. Oh God, my name and address are on my own case. Whoever owns this, they are either a spy or more likely a moonshine mobster. I could wind up dead if they come looking for it and given that it contains at least two million, they are not going to forget about it. I reckon I’ve got one night to blow the lot. I’ll hit the casinos in a while, but first, room service. “Hi, could I have the caviar, truffles, lobster thermadore and the finest rare Bollinger please at room 256. Thanks” Ah, there’s a name on the case, Al Capone. I think I’ve heard of him… oh God, I’ve definitely heard of him. The door, that was quick. I’d better open it. I hope to hell it’s only room service….. Story 2 – Stolen Or Swapped? What’s this, Swimwear! Darling, cheap thrift shop variety if anything. What have you done, Darling? Oh, it’s my fault is it! This is Summer holiday stuff. It might be alright for the hot tub later but not much else. Whoever owns this wasn’t heading for the Alps. It’s nearly midnight ere now we’ve put the clocks forward. We’re not going to get our own case back until tomorrow if then, and if they open it, never. I wonder how we got swapped, was it accidental or deliberate. There was that guy who bumped into us in the airport car-park, he dropped his case as I dropped mine. He must have done it. He’ll be sorry stealing off suicide bombers. Wherever he went there will be a big hole in the place he opens my case. Looks like we’ll get to detonate ourselves another day, so we might as well relax and enjoy the holiday. We’ll read about whoever got blown up in the papers in the morning. Arthur Chappell