They're selling more than stamps at the post office!

Hey hun,

Well I’m not dead yet! I know, how disappointing. You know, one time I heard that if you never stop moving, you never die. Like sharks! You never hear of a shark just dying mid-swim. They either get caught in a fishing net or chomped by an orca. 

Anyways, you won’t believe what happened at the post office the other day. I went in for a book of stamps and it was absolutely nuts! There was quite a ruckus between Postmaster David and Susan about a package sitting on the counter. 

Susan is a mail carrier with a bit of a mysterious past. She only moved into town about ten years ago and says that she does the job because she likes the outdoors, but I know for a fact that it’s to snoop on people’s business.

Well, Susan was making a stink about how she wouldn’t deliver the box and had already called the cops because she was convinced it was filled with human remains.

To her credit, the box was oozing a dark liquid that smelled like hot dumpster juice. Everyone in line was annoyed as all hell and poor Postmaster David looked a little green under the gills.

I said to the man next to me, probably too loud, “I don’t see why the police need to be involved. If there’s a serial killer in this town, Snooper Susan would be the first to know.”

Susan whipped around and glared at me. I just knew she was thinking of that time I called her baby doll collection creepy on Facebook. How was I supposed to know she could see what was on my page? She pointed her grubby little finger at me and said,
”Only a sociopath would laugh at an innocent person’s DEATH! AND she lives across the street from the culprit, Barbara Sanderson.'“

A police car pulled up outside and two over-excited cops popped out just as Barbie strolled in with a package pick-up slip in her hands.

There was a big of a tussle over the box. The cops tried to take the box from Susan, who didn’t want to give up the spotlight, while Barbie hopped around yelling that it was her box.

Well, the cardboard must have been weakened by all that goop leaking out and the whole thing split apart and flew into the air. Everyone in the post office was treated to a shower of rotting oyster corpses.

I told you about Barbie’s pearl party MLM cult thing, right? Apparently, the story is that they’re supposed to be shipped all wrapped up and chilled. But, unsurprisingly, this company doesn’t have such a thing as quality control and so this box slipped by without any of it.

Poor Postmaster David lost his lunch over the matter. Susan, who got hit with the the worst of the slop, was just standing there screaming while the cops stepped around trying to scoop up the slimy shells.

It took a while, but I did get my stamps and Barbie insisted on taking her rotten oysters home in a plastic bag. By the way, can you believe how expensive stamps are now? 

Well, write back and let me know how you’re doing. I have to finish a letter to my pen pal in Arizona before Bea picks me up for our Thursday afternoon walk to the liquor store. Movement keeps you young!

Much love, 

Grams