Mrs. Chillwhip and the Good Bandit


December 24th, 2018, by Patrick Starks

Mrs CHillwhip main

Voices carried from building to building, and rain dripped from street to street. It was the holidays. And no matter how bad the weather had gotten, people continued with their lives as normal. But for Mrs. Chillwhip the day would be more than the struggle she’d expect. Not only was she soaked, but now her car wouldn’t start. And the molding on the cake was that she was already late to the Black Friday sale that was occurring.

She cranked the engine. Harder with each breath she took in fact, but for a 1963 Ford Falcon, it had seen better days. On the passenger side, a man then tapped on the glass. And quickly, Mrs. Chillwhip locked the doors for she had had enough problems for one day. However, the man was persistent. The windows were tented, but for some odd reason Mrs. Chillwhip could see that the man’s eyes had not left her own—a staring competition, say the least.

“Mam… Is everything alright?” he asked. “Looks like you are having some car trouble. Please, don’t be afraid. If you just pop your hood, then I can help.”

Mrs. Chillwhip took a moment to reflect. There was no doubt in her mind that the man was up to no good, but what other choice did she have. Calling a tow was something she just didn’t have the money for, let alone the time. Nevertheless, many people roamed the streets,  which meant if the man were to try to pull any stunt, there would at least be witnesses. And it was this that made Mrs. Chillwhip feel somewhat at ease.

Mrs. Chillwhip then popped the hood, and the man became hidden. From the backseat, her purse vibrated. What is it now, she whispered. She then reached over the seat to grab her phone out of her purse. By the many voicemails that had been left, Mrs. Chillwhip could already see that her baby boy was becoming impatient. First was a b-b gun, second a Tonka trunk, third, a BMX bike, and not at all the baby carriage. Having a kid was more then what Mrs. Chillwhip thought it would be, however, she loved her boy more than anything in the world, than life itself.

“Okay, give her a go!” yelled the man.

Mrs. Chillwhips face had become red, from the joy that is. The falcon was now running, and better than it had in a while. One was to take off, two was to thank the man for his troubles. Mrs. Chillwhip was indeed a paranoid woman, but she had her reasons, yet for the holidays she figured to let her guard down just a little. Tis the season to be jolly, and so they say.

“Thank you so much! H-how could I ever repay you?” she said, from a slightly cracked window, followed by doors that of which were still locked.

The man smiled. And his smile would be something Mrs. Chillwhip had not expected. It was bright, welcoming, handsome, seductive, safe, adventurous, smart, tough, all in one. Like Idris Elba, she whispered.

“No, nothing at all,” said the man. “Just stay safe. You got some crazies out there. And oh yeah, Merry Christmas.”

Before she could even investigate a little bit more of who or what kind of man she’d just encountered, the man had faded out of existence.

Mrs. Chillwhip was now back on the road. It took her a few laps around the parking lot, but eventually, she’d get herself an up close park. The place was jammed pack as expected. Everyone, shoulder to shoulder, crotch to butt, butt to crotch as they waited for their turn with the cashiers.

Almost half an hour in and Mrs. Chillwhip would finally breach the crowd. It was like a breath of fresh air. And to top it all off, in front of her sat nestled the gift that her little boy wanted, the only thing he wanted—the Nintendo Switch. Although, it appeared that there was just one left, and it would seem that Mrs. Chillwhip wouldn’t be the only one who had locked onto it.

A woman to her left and a woman to her right, Mrs. Chillwhip counted. Both with the same intentions to make sure that their child had the perfect Christmas, as all mothers do. As the seconds passed, each of the three would gradually make their way over to their children’s prized possession. And without hesitation, Mrs. Chillwhip plunged her way to towards the item. All three woman tugged a war for it. There was a security guard of course, but he was little more interested in who’s top would come off first, as paper bills were being collected by what was hoped to be single men. But a pig was a pig, single or not. And for that reason, it surely wasn’t the security guards first time witnessing such a moment, and on such a particular day as it was, he knew that it surely wouldn’t be his last.

Out of nowhere, the room then went black. No lights, except for the one the security guard had pulled from his hip. Within seconds the lights came back on. And immediately, Mrs. Chillwhip and the other two women noticed that the package was gone. They searched everywhere, including each other. But in her peripheral, Mrs. Chillwhip had caught her eye on a suspicious man. He was short, wearing a trench coat that was obviously too big for him. Stop, she yelled.

The man was quick, almost floating through the crowd like a ballerina of the sort. And he was headed straight for the exit, without paying. The alarm had gone off as the man had made his way through, as well plowing through the security guard like a linebacker. Money flew everywhere as the security had fallen back, causing a crowd to swarm around him like pigeons. But I guess karma comes in many shapes and forms, won’t you agree.

Mrs. Chillwhip followed the man out. And now even more women would follow in her vanguard, all in the hopes to stop a Grinch that was trying to steal Christmas.

Outside a car waited for the man. Come on! Come on! The driver yelled. The car was without a doubt stolen from what Mrs. Chillwhip could tell—not many criminals drove a Prius. But it was the perfect car to blend in for not many cops would suspect it.

But on her way, Mrs. Chillwhip noticed something—the voice of the driver. She only knew of one man’s voice, one that annoyed her like no other—her ex-husband. But no. This was voice she had just heard hours before. The air was misty, but the closer she had gotten the man looked more recognizable.  Y-you… she said.

The man’s face then went from eager to puzzled. For once in his life, he felt like no matter the good he did, he’d always find a way to screw it up one way or another. Although, his brother who his mother cherished the most, always told him that he was the company that he kept. And the more trouble he’d gotten himself into, the more he’d find some truth in that.

“Come on man! Go!” yelled the robber. “What’s wrong with you?”

The man then snapped out of it and hit the gas with everything he had. Yet, his eyes hardly left the rearview mirror. And the saddest part to it all was that Mrs. Chillwhip would have a little boy to explain to. However, little did she know when she’d gotten home, her day would get more interesting the closer it was to ending.