A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury...

You know, I’m seriously thinking of writing a book. A book about my greatest nemisis: The Post Office. Maybe I could steal the title from ol’ Bill here, because I think it sums it up for me.

For all my tales of fury and protests, in the end they signify nothing….except maybe entertainment for my readers…

Ready to be entertained folks?

OK, here goes…

‘Tis Christmas and ’tis the time of year when gifts are given and exchanged, and sometimes, posted across the vast seas to another land. And so it was that a brave lass took her cumbersome gift to the local post office and took a number. The number was 19. On the board was another number: 17. “Oh,” said the lass, “they shall be quick with their numbers, and here I shall wait.”

But alas, the serving person was from the Molasses family and was true to her family name. Ne’er a slower person was there, and thirty minutes she took to serve number 17. But, like all things, this too came to an end, and she called the next number: 18.

Eagerly the lass gathered her things and moved forward, believing she would be next.

And so she waited.

But time passed and nothing happened, for the woman in front of Molasses had turned to stone.

An old witch came up to the lass and poked at her, trying to make an exchange: the witch’s 24 for her 19. “Lassie,” said the witch, “I would like your number, for I must go visit a friend soon, a friend at the cemetary…”

The lass was startled, but was brave and stood tall, “My dear lady,” she said, “If your friend truly be at the cemetary, she shall be going nowhere, and can surely wait.”

The witch was sorely offended and tried giving her the evil eye, but fortunately, Molasses released the stone woman and called her number, and so she dashed to the desk, parcel in hand.

But Molasses was anything but helpful as she pushed her aside to make her fill out a long scroll, when asked if in the meantime she would accept payment of a bill she said no, as things had to be done, “in the proper order.”

The lass filled out her form and waited another 15 minutes as Molasses helped another. At long last, it was her turn and the long process of parcel-sending began. When the process was nearly complete, the witch’s curse struck the printing machine and the packing slip crumpled within, causing Molasses to go into a fit of confusion and call upon the other minions for assistance.

As the lass awaited, the witch’s thin, reedy voice came from behind her elbow, “How long shall you be lassie, for my friend awaits me at the cemetary.”

“I know not,” she replied, piqued.

At long last, the infernal printing machine was fixed, and the parcel process was completed.

Our heroine dashed out of the post office as quickly as she could, leaving the witch to harass the others before her.

 

Total wait time 1hr 15 min. Total serving time 20 min. You do the math folks.

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