Based on a true story
I’ve probably rewritten this story three times already—this is my fourth attempt, and I think I finally nailed it
Meet Jed Braxton, your average cargo ramp agent at a major Canadian airline—by “major,” we mean the airline that runs on maple syrup, sarcasm, and prayers the ground crew doesn’t mutiny.
Jed was on shift at the GCI cargo terminal, which is where questionable packages go when they’re too weird for the main terminal. On this particular spooky Tuesday (also known as every Tuesday in cargo), a customer wheeled in… an empty funeral casket.
Nothing says “enjoy your shift” quite like an unclaimed coffin and the faint smell of formaldehyde mixed with Tim Hortons.
Jed saw it.
Jed froze.
Jed’s brain screamed “ABSO-FREAKIN’-LUTELY NOT!”
You see, Jed wasn’t just allergic to ghosts—he was downright terrified. His childhood in the Caribbean had filled him with enough superstitions to make a Ouija board short-circuit.
Enter his buddy—let’s call him Darryl the Dirtbag, the kind of guy who thinks scaring people is a personality trait. He saw Jed trembling like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm and said, “Don’t worry, bro. I’ll handle it. Just go grab the shipping labels.”
Translation: Go get the paperwork while I prep to destroy your will to live.
Jed dashed off, grateful to avoid playing peekaboo with the Grim Reaper. But when he came back…
Darryl was gone.
The customer was gone.
Only the casket remained… silently… ominously… grinning (probably).
Jed tiptoed toward the coffin like it was booby-trapped. He carefully placed the shipping label—and suddenly—WHAM!—the lid popped open like a jack-in-the-box of death, and a figure shot straight up like Dracula with a Red Bull.
It was Darryl.
And he was laughing.
Jed, on the other hand, screamed so loud, Pearson Airport thought an engine exploded. He bolted out the terminal doors, yelling in Creole, English, French, and possibly Morse Code. He leapt two baggage carts and cleared a rolling bin like an Olympic hurdler on adrenaline.
Witnesses say he was still screaming “BON DIEU, TAKE ME NOW!” all the way to the employee parking lot.
Later, after downing two Timbits and regaining control of his bowels, Jed swore he’d never let superstitions get the better of him again.
But let’s face it—every time a casket rolled in after that, Jed rolled out.
Moral of the story?
If you’re gonna fake being dead, don’t do it around someone who believes in zombies, poltergeists, or airline management.
And in true AAS fashion, we call this tale…
“DEADLINE: The Day Jed Braxton Nearly Died of a Practical Joke!”
