Nonsense. Just nonsense.

Can’t go through the mail like that – the whole shamong would be torn to shreds. Plants in the post… Well, it was the only way I figured that Kate would get it before I died. These flimsy flowers and the dainty little stalks, along with a bunch of other vegetation, were my way of saying goodbye. Hope she appreciates it… Hope it gets to her in one piece, more to the point.

Maybe I could wrap some string around it first? Sorta bundle it up before shoving it in a parcel and dropping it off? Might as well give it a shot, I’d a shitload of string and no other need for it once I’d shuffled off the mortal coil. Thing is, the bloody mush wouldn’t sit still long enough for me to actually get the job done. I know that sounds like a weird thing to say, about an ostensibly inanimate object to boot, but that’s what it seemed like.

The sense of foreboding and dread…I can’t describe it. Along with the anxiety aroused by my inability to properly package my parting gift, these feelings were getting the better of me. It was a good thing I was already suicidal, otherwise this experience would be driving me totally over the edge. Still, could be worse. It coulda been Monday.

Solidarity (and apologies), brothers & sisters…


About Seba Roux

Gooner, Socialist, Historian, Slacker. That's pretty much all you need to know.
This entry was posted in Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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