Good Little Surprises
I had a box delivered to me yesterday, at least according to the Post Office.
No box when I got home.
No nearby neighbors had it.
I was all set to call ye ole USPS and throw a bitch fit at them because I lost another freaking box. Then came the quiet knock. My neighbor who looks old enough to have voted for both Roosevelts is standing there with my little box. Nice guy I guess. He picked it up because he didn't want it to be stolen and knew I came in late.
He's quiet, will talk to you about flowers, the weather, traffic, local gossip, anything at all.
Provided your not black. Or jewish. Or hispanic. Or Eastern European. Or arabic. Or native american (what I was taught to call an Indian in grade school). Or obviously counter-culture.
Like I said, I guess he's sort of a nice guy. Lucky for me he doesn't know that I am a mongrel bred american. Got the box though.
No box when I got home.
No nearby neighbors had it.
I was all set to call ye ole USPS and throw a bitch fit at them because I lost another freaking box. Then came the quiet knock. My neighbor who looks old enough to have voted for both Roosevelts is standing there with my little box. Nice guy I guess. He picked it up because he didn't want it to be stolen and knew I came in late.
He's quiet, will talk to you about flowers, the weather, traffic, local gossip, anything at all.
Provided your not black. Or jewish. Or hispanic. Or Eastern European. Or arabic. Or native american (what I was taught to call an Indian in grade school). Or obviously counter-culture.
Like I said, I guess he's sort of a nice guy. Lucky for me he doesn't know that I am a mongrel bred american. Got the box though.
posted by Phil M. at 2:51 PM
2 Comments:
Must be Fred.
Fred is a fucktard.
Die Fred, die.
How did you ever guess?
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