When you're awesome, you get lots of presents in the mail. Those presents usually come attached with cupcakes, and/or naked photos. I guess that's why I don't receive packages too often.
Apparently, I forgot to check my calendar yesterday, because it was “Chad is wicked awesome” day. In other words, I got a package in the mail. But this wasn't just any package, mind you. This wasn't your typical “here, I baked you some brownies” care package. It was more like “here, I baked you a pipe bomb. Consume at your own risk.”
Whenever I get packages in the mail, they always turn out to be threatening, from the government, or a sick combination of both. On a rare occasion, I'll receive a basket full of porn. But stuff like that happens about as often as one of my jokes turns out to be funny. Yeah. Like that.
Yesterday, my mailman, who resembles an offspring of Bigfoot, pulled the mail-mobile up to my box, and dropped a nice little manila envelope inside. Usually, manila envelopes serve as the Library's last warning for me to return their only copy of Karma Sutra. However, this manila envelope featured a return address located in California. The sender was Tony Pierce. At first, the connection didn't register. Once my sparse amount of intelligence kicked in, I realized the sender was the one and only master of the Busblog. However, why he was sending me a package, I couldn't quite figure out.
Once I had cut the envelope to shreds, a DVD case fell out that contained 2 mix CD's. One was addressed to me, the other to my future college roommate Aaron. The package was still partially full, so I turned it upside down, and the external remains of a black cat fell out, hidden within a plastic bag. Upon closer inspection, I realized that I had not been sent a dead animal, but rather a clump of hair.
In a ziplock bag.
Tell me when the last time somebody's afro arrived in your mailbox, and I'll tell you what to write on my suicide letter.
I mean, I'm all for afro's and I'm all about black people. But something about the two mixed together with my mailbox just doesn't hit the “incredibly applealing” button.
After gathering my thoughts, I realized why a ziplock bag full of lice had been shipped to my doorstep. About a month ago, Aaron arrived at lunch, complete with his overly goofy smile, and informed us that Tony was selling his afro on Ebay, and that we should all pitch in and buy it, since all proceeds went to charity. We agreed, and almost every person sitting at our 8-member lunch table pitched in a dollar. None of us really expected that money to go towards buying somebody's hair. On the internet.
My mom always told me I was a big fan of surprises.
Speaking of surprises, I left the evelope on the kitchen counter. Being the nosy parent he is, my Dad peeked inside, and ended up pulling out all the items. He tossed the bag aside, thinking it was some kind of fluff to protect the DVD. He then mumbled: “Why didn't you throw this away?” I said nothing. It was a moment too priceless to ruin.
I don't get mail very often, but when I do, it always seems to be of extremely high quality. Porn and afros. I'd say that's about as high quality as it gets, without sending me a lifesize version of Jessica Simpson.
What exactly we're going to do with a rent-an-fro, Aaron and I haven't decided. Thus far, the coolest idea we've come up with is to glue it to a trucker hat, wear it to school, and get suspended for excessive bodily hair.
As always, suggestions are welcome.
Plugage: Ryan McGee :: Paul Katcher :: Melting Dolls
wow.. I still can't believe you bought it. You should bring it to freak Amanda out!
Rachel on 07/03/2004 at 6AM EST