Shipping Joke Novels & Stories

Another message, this time from an unknown number: [Why is my package delayed? I expect my shipment in two days, or there will be trouble, Alpha Barron.]

“Of course. I’ll marry her over and over if I have the chance. But I do intend to get married again in the States. We’ll renew our vows. And this time it’s going to be grand. Everybody will be invited.” “Good, because I will never speak to you ever if I miss it again.” “Anyway, did you read the email I sent to you yesterday?” Justin asked. His tone turned serious and professional. Julianne had to remember that she’s now talking to her boss. “Yes,” she replied. “RJ Shipping looks promising. But in terms of experience, they’ve only been in the market for two years. I don’t know if they’re the right company to handle our shipments in Asia.”

The few comments defending me were quickly drowned out by the flood of insults. I opened my private messages, only to find them filled with filth, harassment, and probing questions. I trembled with rage. My deepest pain had been dragged into the light and turned into a public joke. "It's the evil woman! Last time, she did this after you died. This time, she's two months early." Daisy whimpered in my arms. I scratched her chin gently. Every wound Sophie had inflicted on me and Daisy, I would return, one by one. "Stay offline for now. Let me handle it." Oliver's calm but firm voice came through the phone.

Is Alpha Iraj just waiting for a winner to become apparent and playing his chances until then? There’s no way of knowing. Asking Joli will only get me more trouble—and a higher chance of being caught. “Well, thanks,” I tell her. With a sigh, she says, “Tell them the next shipment won’t be for two weeks. Supply chain issues.” “Will—” She hops onto the cart, spurs the horse attached to the front—all sleek lines and dappled hair, just as fast-looking as Lightning Cape horses are rumored to be—and trundles away as fast as a hay cart can.

My phone buzzed in my hand so hard my fingers went numb. I looked down. The DMs were stacking up faster than I could read them. [Sophia Shaw, come on, we're classmates, give me a discount. Fifty for one round, deal?] [With a body like yours, who could stop at just twice a night?] [I've sent the money. I'll meet you at the hotel you pinned tonight] My mind went blank. I threw the phone away. That suffocating feeling–like a plastic bag being pulled over my head–came rushing back, choking me.

Thanks for the food, by the way; I love it. My face turned red. I don't know if it was because of embarrassment because of my sloppy impostor or because of his message. Instead of replying to Jairon, I called Shiela. "What?" she answered angrily on the line. "FVCK YOU! The information you gave me was wrong!" I said. "What's wrong?" she asked in surprise. "You didn't tell me that Shoppee doesn't deliver cooked foods!" I snorted. "What? Food? You bitch, I am not aware that you are sending food. You didn't make it clear; I hope what I told you was grab food or food panda," she blamed. I just slapped my forehead and hung up. "Damn. I really made a mess," I whispered to myself.

My phone vibrates, pulling me from my thoughts. "Hello, Raffaele," comes Jasmine’s smooth voice. "Hello, Jas," I respond evenly, already anticipating the reason for her call. "Just letting you know that the warehouse in Italy is fine. All shipments are up to date, and there is no sign of any shady business in the bank records." "And tonight’s shipments?" I ask, leaning back in my chair. "Already in transit to the designated location," she assures me.

“Miss Moore! Something terrible has happened!” Jasmine quickly asked, “What happened?” The other party replied, “The shipment that we exported over to the United States has just arrived at the port. Upon inspection, however, the company said that our products are not up to their standards, and they want to return the products according to the contract. They are also asking for three times the original price of the product as compensation!”

Beep! A message came into her phone. It was Tara. Tara: Yo babe! Sherry: Good, what about you? Tara: I'm good, are you enjoying your holiday? Sherry:( She sent a bored emoji), bored as hell. Tara: (Send a laughing emoji) You don't have a choice, you have to except if you wish to get harassed by those aggressive reporters.

After placing the order, I set the shipping address to this estate. Then, I searched for extra-thick, floral-padded jackets with a fleece lining and bought ten in one go, with sizes ranging from S to XXXL. Finally, I searched 10,000 screaming rubber chickens, clicked into the store, and hopped into a chat with customer service. Me: "Hi. Do you have 10,000 in stock? What's the shipping to Canverly?" Customer service: "Dear customer, are you starting a chicken farm?" Me: "No. I'm hosting a concert."