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Originally posted by rokkitsci
Ummm... there is however, one teensy-weensy little change of plans, though.
Went off to the post office disguised in my Sadist Santa leathers, including 12 plush llamas (they were out of reindeer), with my black and white face paint on to avoid facial recognition detection software (you'll recall I have been banned from the post office). This regalia seemed to work quite well as my snarls and growls kept people a goodly distance from me, casting glances askance, not daring to look me in the eye (neither the black nor the white one). Welp, I don't know about you folks over there and what heathen ceremonies you celebrate, but over here in US of by ghawdz A, we celebrate this greediest of solemn occasions by thronging to EVERYTHING! The postal office, especially, being no exception.
The queue was well out the door when I arrived and it took me the better part of a furlong just to get inside. My patience was beginning to wear. As I neared the final turn, one off from being next serviced, I couldn't help but observe the old woman at the counter. She had been there for almost 10 minutes when I was finally close enough to overhear what was causing the delay. Apparently, she wanted to purchase a stamp. Yes, that's right, ONE stamp. But she was seriously conflicted about whether to buy the "King Obama Wants You to Conserve Our Climate!" Christmas stamp, the Tiger Woods "Guess I played the wrong hole" Christmas stamp, or the "What Country Should We Invade Next Lottery" Christmas stamp.
Well, when I heard that, my patience ran out. I went up to the old lady, and in my politest, most genteel voice, discreetly shouted in her face "What the fuck is the matter with you you old bitch! Nobody gives a shit about the fucking stamp you use on the stupid card that probably smells like old woman piss anyhow." And then I hit her. Hard. In the crotch. With my foot. And my long, white Sadist Santa wig came off and all kinds of bells and alarms and stuff started going off as the facial recognition software apparently recognized my facial. And then lots and lots of these very impolite, burly men came streaming in from fuck knows where and rudely and none too gently manhandled me out of the postal office with the gentle reminder that if I ever showed up in one of the offices again, they would surely KILL ME TO DEATH!!!
Harumphhh! I'm not stupid. I can take a subtle hint. I left.
Unfortunately, I was now in a quandary regarding how to get these goodies all the way over to the other side of the big pond. The little raft scheme I tried before didn't work out too well since I miscalculated the route of the Gulf Stream by forgetting to factor in that fucking butterfly in Africa that causes all the goddam hurricanes here in Florida. The whole thing with the salmon that I tried, seemed a little fishy. So what was a bloke to do?
I wracked my brains, but was unable to come up with anything. So, off to the pier I went, to throw myself over the side and end it all, the shame being unbearable. I was just getting ready to sprint the length of the pier to hurl myself off the end when my eardrums were nearly burst by a foghorn blast from the freighter tied up alongside me. I looked over to see one of the yeomen or boatswains or whatever you call them waving at me frantically. "Yo, mate," he shouted at me. "D'yer think you could cast off that bow line for us so we can get the feck out of this shitehole?"
Suddenly, a light went off in my frazzled brain! That man... that person... was speaking with an Inglelander accentuate! I could tell, since I could barely make out that he was speaking American at all. I said "Hey, fellow, where are ye bound?"
"Why, Merrye Olde Inglelande, of course, ye daft Yank!"
I said "I'll gladly castrate off your bowel limes if you could perchance do me the slightest of favors by delivering a few small packets to your esteemed frozen homeland for me."
Well, long story short, he said he would and I freed his ship and now everybody is going to live happily ever after.
One small detail, though.The freighter, "His Majesty's Bollocks." is not bound directly for that tiny, little island you call home. It's going to make a few stops along the way: Mali, Greenland, Croatia, Swaziland, New Zealand, Guatemala, Turkmenistan, The Vatican, (layover in Thailand), Kansas, Switzerland, Siberia, and Upper Volta. But I'm assured that she should reach home by roughly April.
2017.
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