Random – I am all that is efficient and streamlined – like a Leopard seal

I’ve been carrying this letter around with me for literally days now, waiting till I saw a postbox while I was out. Sure, I could have taken two minutes to walk down the street and just dropped in at the box there – but I refused because I’m a master of efficiency (either that or I’m sociophobic, your choice).

If I have to go somewhere, I’ll do a million other little jobs at the same time. Gotta visit the folks for dinner? On the way I’ll probably,

• Drop off two dozen overdue videos at the video store
• Pick up some Kentucky Fried Chicken (for lunch sometime next week)
• Call past Bunnings to pick up supplies for my next “doomed-to-half-build-then-give-up” DIY project
• Drive to the beach and build obscene sand castles to reconnect with my inner-child,
• And, dump the body of some douche (who laughed at my car) into the river

Mail is usually pretty low on my priorities list, so it’s rare that I do a “Mail run”. This particular letter though was starting to piss me off enough (and it was marginally important too, being my acceptance letter to the Navy) that a “single letter mail run” was becoming a distinct possibility.
However today fate was to intervene, sending me on an amazing religious journey of self-discovery, with some espionage and intrigue thrown in too.

My morning in a picture : Sam Fisher shooting that shitty little kid from Never-ending story,
then blowing out the brain of that stupid “Falkor” dragon-dog thing

I was on my way back from the pool when I started digging around in my bag for my mobile, when low and behold that fucking letter was still there in the front pocket teasing me for not having sent it off. Forgetting about the mobile I pulled up at a set of lights seconds later, watching the usual stream of traffic going passed when suddenly an apparition appeared before me!

A floating ethereal being composed of pure white light whisped silently passed me and turned onto the road I was heading along. It was the rarest of deities – the Messenger Post van

Knowing that surely this messenger of packages, this tool of Gabriel, would be naturally drawn by the power of the boxes that post (even though they’re couriers and have nothing to do with the regular post), I decided to follow said courier till I found a post box. Never mind that I knew exactly where a postbox was just down my street – I was “in the zone”.

There is no zone, I was just acting like a crack-addict.

I maintained a safe distance from the post van, careful not to tip him off he had a tail. The problem with staying about 3 cars back is that it gets harder and harder to stay with your target, especially when you throw traffic lights into the mix. After a few close calls, I was still with him and certain he’d lead me to the dead-drop.

But suddenly, out of nowhere, a silver Sportage pulled out in front of me! Four cars behind, this was not good. And something didn’t seem quite right about this car either – functioning tail lights, no dents, driven in a safe and normal manner: surely this was just another car! There was one give away though: a pink personalised number plate with “Chez Nous” on it.
Ah ha! Terrorists!

This was a concern: were they leading me into a trap? Would I discover their post box, only to have it explode in my face? Was this “Chez Nous” trying to warn me, or part of the terrorist’s elaborate plan. I noticed other signs of an ambush: a crane blocking off a side road, a guy using a leaf-blower on the footpath, a mother walking her children to school. This was surely a trap, but alas I had to go on for God and Country (note: I have no god nor entry-status to any country, except maybe Sierra Leon).

Just when I felt like I was being funneled into a killing ground, a red painted messiah – a lone postbox on the corner of the local whore house that’s disguised as a Thai restaurant. The fears of a trap were still there; but something about it’s rounded top and gentle lettering were comforting, safe. So leaving my trailblazer of Aries behind, I pulled up at the restaurant and cautiously approached. “Chez Nous” disappeared into the distance as quickly as they appeared, and I gingerly dropped the letter in and dived to the Ginge-mobile, speeding away (I did a commando roll too, but it didn’t turn out so well)

All the way home I knew they were onto me – there was a mosquito in the car tracking my every move, and a black guy watched me drive passed as I hid behind the steering wheel. I screamed into the driveway at home, bolted inside and hid under the blankets, waiting for them to come for me………….

Why are you all still reading this dribble? Jesus Christ, my life is not fucking fan-fiction – piss off and do something constructive with your lives