Speaking of other peoples packages. I remember getting ready to leave for work one day and spotting the mailman coming up the path. It was early and I wasn’t feeling particularly social so I paused behind the storm door as I exited the main door of the house, waiting on him to pass. He began pushing the mail through the letterbox and last through was a large Jiffy bag that he struggled to wedge in. Finally, it fell free and there was an audible crack as it hit the stone floor. This “crack” then began to hum and in the space of three seconds had turned in to a loud vibrating noise which echoed around as the Jiffy rattled against the wood of the main door and then danced around the vestibule. By this point I was thinking “what the fuck?” I felt acutely aware of the fact the noise had stopped the Postman in his tracks and at any minute the letter box was going to open and he was going to catch my reflection in the glass door behind me, which would seem odd and ridiculous. As the packaged danced around my feet I felt relief as I heard him journey on. I could see the Jiffy was addressed to my elderly neighbour whose husband had passed 6 months prior and, well you know where this story is going. I didn’t open the package for fear of being repulsed and never being able to look her in the eye again, that said, I think my imagination has done far greater damage. Anyway, I ran upstairs and chucked it in the blanket box, contained and muffled, until “its” batteries ran flat. When I saw her car exit the driveway the following day I ran round and delivered it, anonymously.

Pastries sound much more pleasurable.

They were pretty delicious and I only felt a little bad when I saw that the package came with a generic online “is this a gift?” type card that said “Merry Christmas! Love Granny and Grandpa Mort”

But then I ate more candy and forgot about feeling bad.

Mo in KCMO – Hahaha, every word it true! I relived it as I typed.