Incidentally, this story was originally part of a trilogy. Just be grateful I never got any further.
The result was that she had neither time nor inclination to buy herself a proper lunch, and with only two minutes before she was due back at work she ducked into the nearest cornershop in search of something even vaguely edible. The choice that faced her made her wished she’d stocked up when the sandwich lady had come round the office at ten, but it was too late now. She hesitated between Melted-Plastic-In-Flaky-Pastry, and BSE-In-Soggy-Pasty, then grabbed up the cheese and onion pasty and hurried over to the counter.
She paid quickly, dropping the cellophane wrapped Ming Pasty into her shoulder bag, then hurried off out of the shop.
She walked quickly down the high street, the heels of her shoes clicking on the paving stones and preventing her from walking as fast as she would have liked. She checked her watch and realised she had less than thirty seconds to make the three minute walk back to work, at least if she stuck to the road.
There was an option though. Up ahead a small side street led to a shortcut of sorts - one only to be used in real emergencies, due to the fact it involved climbing over a pile of bin bags and discarded crates, then through a hole in a chain-link fence. But it would take at least two minutes off her walk, because the fence opened right onto the car park of the building where she worked. A snap decision and she altered course, ducking into the side street with as much speed as her heels would allow.
In her bag, the Ming Pasty bounced along with the other contents, wedged in between a powder compact and a yellow address book. The swinging of the bag jangled the contents together, causing the Pasty to squash in places.
The woman was oblivious both to this fact, and the more important fact that a young man was waiting for her two thirds of the way down the side street. Well, maybe not necessarily waiting for her, but definitely for someone. As soon as he saw the woman, he knew she would do.
Had the pasty had eyes, it still would have seen nothing more than the black lining of the shoulder bag, and maybe a glimmer of its own reflection in the mirror of the compact. Had it had ears, it would definitely have heard the startled cry of the woman and the harsh tones of the man. If it had been able to feel, it would have detected the brief struggle between the two humans. Even if it had had all these senses, the was nothing it could have done and even less it would have cared to do.
The ears it did not have heard the blunt, leaden sound like a watermelon being split and then it was falling, falling in freefall as the black container of a bag dropping to the ground. The impact split the cellophane wrapper and burst open the pastry case, splattering the insides of the bag with congealed cheese.
Then the bag was snatched up and the jolting run began again, more frantic this time, a desperation reflected in the chaos within as the contents of the bag took on a life of their own. Flung in all directions, the Pasty was bombarded by the smaller objects, its soft body bruising and shattering under the blows. A lipstick all but punctured it, embedding itself in the yellow gunk that oozed out.
The bouncing ride lasted for immeasurable time, because a Ming Pasty has no sense of time, nor of distance, nor of self preservation. Even if had been able to defend itself, it wouldn’t have done so.
Eventually, the young man stopped, gasping harshly to catch his breath, by the bank of the slow moving canal. Crouching on the wet grass he upended the shoulder bag, tipping out the contents.
The Ming Pasty fell with a wet splat into the mud, a broken mess.
The man ignored it. He snatched up the small purse and then ran off again, leaving the other contents, and the pasty, on the ground. Although he didn’t know it yet, the young man would die in a doorway less than twelve hours later, a victim of an overdose bought with the money from the purse.
The Pasty remained by the canal for some time, regardless of time, of space, of consequence. Its insides congealed further, while the wet grass turned its pastry coating soggy. It lay there as if waiting, until a small dog, left to run free off its leash, found it and devoured it in three quick bites.
The owner of the dog, following less than half a minute behind, was still too late to prevent the dog from choking to death on the cellophane wrapper.