Billy The Ratchet Strap Winder: Mischief in the Truck Yard

This is the second installment from the tales of Billy the Ratchet Strap Winder. 

To catch up on part 1, click here

So, without further ado, back by popular demand, I give you: 

Billy the Ratchet Strap Winder: Mischief in the Truck Yard

The yard was much like it was most Friday nights, most of the fleet had returned, trailers lined up at one end of the yard and trucks at the other. The drivers had clocked off, lugged their kit bags to their cars, and headed home, no doubt hoping that no one would use their truck over the weekend and that it would be sitting there, fully fueled and waiting for their return when they clock back in on Monday morning.

The security light had clicked off hours ago, and nothing stirred. Nothing, that is, except by the refilling station. There was something mighty peculiar happening over at the refilling station. There seemed to be a stick-like figure, squirting water all over the place. It couldn’t have been taller than a metal jerry can, but it was thin, blue, and … if I didn’t question my sanity when saying these words, looked rather like a ratchet strap winder that had grown 2 legs, 2 arms, and a head! But no, surely not….

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Rubbing his eyes, Gerald, the security guard, decided that he must have been seeing things as the mysterious figure had gone when he turned back to the CCTV screen he had been watching from. Billy, as you know, had been trying to wash off the sticky unknown gunk that he had landed in, gunk that had indeed meant that he had grown 2 legs, 2 arms and a head and that on reflection, Billy wanted to make sure he washed off before he started sprouting anything else, like wings, or a tail.

Now, Billy did have one mischievous idea of how he would like to spend his first night of freedom, and while having a good scrub down, he had been plotting how to bring it about.

Shaking off the excess water and giving his joints a good squirt with the dregs of a discarded can of WD40, he darted to the warehouse where there was a gravel path he could follow, down the side of the building to the office door. Now, Billy knew that without a key fob or door code, he couldn’t get past that door. However, he also knew that the drivers, including his boss, posted thick folders of delivery notes and time sheets through the parcel letterbox when they left. A parcel letterbox just the right size for a ratchet strap winder fellow, with a slide that came out into the office itself. Billy climbed up, over the salt box, onto the mounted code box that held the fleet keys, and heaved the slightly rusty parcel postage flap up and swung his legs inside. With a woosh, Billy slid down the shoot, landing on a pile of folders, able to climb up and out of the box into the office. He had done it. What a clever Billy.

Now, he had never been in this office before. Upon jumping down onto the carpet, he could see many desks. They all faced towards the main reception, and each had many large computer screens on. He guessed these were what they used to track the trucks around the country, plan the routes and the deliveries, enabling the team to curse at the live maps showing traffic holdups and diversions. Billy could also see the kitchen in the far corner and a table with leftover Friday snacks, including sugary donuts. It reminded Billy that he was hungry. Before you knew it, he had darted across the floor, climbed up on the chair, onto the table, and was making short but messy work of the leftovers, scattering sugar dust all over the place, closely followed by sticky sugary drinks that he had got his hands on. Walking back across the office, wiping his sticky face with his arm and trailing sugary footprints along the carpet, he saw a name plaque on the top of one of the desks. It was the transport planner's desk. The very transport planner Billy knew, who didn’t like his boss very much at all, who kept sending him to silly places that it's hard to get a truck into and where you have to wait for hours to get unloaded. Billy couldn’t resist. He would get his own back on this man in any way he could think. Climbing onto his seat, Billy removed all the staples from his stapler, hid all the pens from his pen jar, and stuck Post-it notes all over the computer screen with drawings of emojis pulling cheeky faces on them. He hid the man's computer mouse and unplugged the cable to the computer screen. But most dastidly of all, Billy turned to the chair itself. He pulled and pushed the levers and turned dials so that the office chair was too low, too sloping, and generally very uncomfortable for the next person to use.

“What do you think you’re doing, laddy?”

Billy froze. Turning slowly, hands and face still slightly sticky from the donuts, Billy realised he wasn’t alone. There, at reception, stood Gerald the security guard, arms folded, and looking like he was very cross indeed.

He walked over to Billy, scooped him up with one hand, and marched back to his security hut. Turning Billy over, he noticed the name of Billy's boss was marked on his side in permanent marker. He sat Billy down on the security desk and stood back.

‘Now, what do you think you are doing, young sir!? You belong to Trucker Dan, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Billy mumbled, slowly nodding his head in shame

“And how, may I ask, have you come across the ability to wander off on your own like this?” Gerald questioned

“I fell in a magic puddle of sticky stuff by the side of the boss's truck,” Billy confessed.

“I see,” said Gerald. “Well, we'd best give Trucker Dan a call and let him know that he left you behind, shall we? And see what He has to say about it.”

Billy slumped, feeling like he was in for an almighty telling off. But he needn’t have worried. Secretly, Gerald was quite taken by the little guy, and on explaining the situation to Trucker Dan, they laughed heartily at what Billy had gotten up to. In fact, this little gang became good firm friends, working hard by day and with the help of their improbable little ratchet strap winder buddy, had many tales to tell of mischief at night.