Salvation By Mail

The daughter was Jehovah’s Witnessed – by mail.

Getting ready to go on a two-week trip, her computer refused to boot up.  It was perfect timing.  I drove her to Staples for repair.  It should be fixed and returned about the same time she gets back.  On the way home, she asked to stop at her housing complex’s community mailbox.  She was expecting a package, and didn’t want it left in her box, or the larger package delivery box, for two weeks.  Instead, among others, she received a letter from a JW.

The envelope, and the letter inside, (wrapped around a small flyer) were carefully hand-printed in pencil, on blue-lined, three-ring binder paper.  The address was quite precise – no name was given but her Suite (unit) number was specified.  It almost certainly came from one of the other 80 units in the complex, but to conceal that fact, it was mailed.  When I investigated the return address, I found that it was a rental mailbox in a nearby UPS depot.

My Father often said of the persistently tardy, “He’ll miss the second coming of Christ.”  This one didn’t do much better.  I don’t know whether to blame Canada Post, or the sender.  The letter spoke of COVID-caused, virtual, online webinars being released incrementally, over July and August – but the letter didn’t arrive till August 4th.  All of July, and almost a week of August had expired.   Our only chance to go to Heaven was lost because of poor mail delivery??!  😯

I sense the presence of someone who doesn’t really have the strength of their convictions.  Or possibly someone who thought that the safety of an anonymous letter was better than being chased off a porch with a mop handle.  In any case, they’ve discovered a new, devious way to irritate us, long distance.

Flash Fiction #261

PHOTO PROMPT© Roger Bultot

WHO’S THAT KNOCKING AT MY DOOR?

I took Psychology as a major, and got a job as an Uber-Eats driver.  The two fit like pliers handles.  The most intriguing are hotels/motels.  I knock on the door and often get, Who is it?  I wanna say, it’s your damned pizza.  Who were you expecting?

With a glimpse inside some rooms, the answer might be – a hooker, Border Patrol, irate management, FBI, an exorcist priest, or all of the above.  Many of the paranoid use the peephole.  Sometimes I put my eye about an inch from the lens.  Once, I had to slide the pizza in vertically.

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I’m keeping notes.  I’m pretty sure there’s a bestseller in there somewhere.  😉  😯

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If you’d like to join the fun, go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Click the title to hear The Genies do another oldie but moldy goldie.