Sunday, December 20, 2020

Bad Val! Bad Val! Whatcha Gonna Do When They Don't Come For You?

It's just my conspiracy theory, currently. I have only circumstantial evidence, and no positive identification. All I can do is describe the perp to a police sketch artist. They still have those, don't they? But I'm getting ahead of myself.

As you recall, I've been having terrible service from package delivery drivers. The most recent was the package left on a neighbor's back porch. I THINK I KNOW WHO DID IT!

When I came home from town Wednesday, there was a traffic jam at the turn-in to our gravel road. I waited beside Mailbox Row to make my left. An oncoming car crossed the bridge, but I still had to wait. There was a black pickup truck parked on the wrong side of our gravel road. On the left, where I usually park (facing the right direction) to get the mail. I had room to go past him, but another vehicle came barrelling down the gravel, dust flying.

I'm always on the lookout for ne'er-do-wells, of which I was sure this was one. I figured it was someone taking a shortcut through our enclave, due to bridge construction over by the other entrance to our compound. People do that a lot, even without the blacktop road over there closed. They dump trash, and throw gravel around while fishtailing in their speed.

Anyhoo... this was a brown car, shaped like an Acadia. I don't pay much attention to make and model. There was a sticker on the side. A magnetic square, such as real estate agents sometimes use. The car slid to a stop, the driver waiting for me to turn in, I guess. Which was difficult with him sitting in the middle of the road, next to that black truck. He didn't have a signal on. I assumed he was pulling out and going right, up the hill, in the direction from whence I'd come. Maybe T-Hoe was in the way of his turn. What with the truck taking up room.
 
I saw a few letters on the magnetic sign. I though it was a US, and fleetingly gave a mental nod. "Oh. It's the Post Office." Which was disconcerting, because the post office doesn't deliver to individual houses out here, despite those two different young temp employees this summer in the mail JEEP, asking me directions to specific houses.

I glanced at the driver, to see which variety of maniac he might be. A description won't do him justice. Let's just say he looked like if Jonah Hill and Marty Feldman had a baby. His face was all chubby Jonah Hill, but his eyes were crazy Marty Feldman. They were rolling around and popping out of his head. Like he was running from something, or in a terrible hurry. Or just a dude with weird eyes and curly hair.

My deduction was: "Here's one that's for sure going postal!"

As I passed by, that car pulled out and turned left, going over the bridge, in the direction I'd been headed before my turn. Huh. A signal could have solved this logjam.

There are so many weirdos around here, I really didn't give Crazy Eyeballs a second thought. Until Thursday, when I was trying to astrally project and find where my parcel was delivered. I had gone back to the front window, where I sit at HIPPIE on a TV tray. It makes a good desk. Though tiny. My plan was to look up a phone number for UPS, to see if they could track down that driver while he was still on the route, and make him bring my package to the right address. Yes. I know that was folly.

A car went down our gravel road. Right to left. From the direction past our house, heading out towards the mailbox/creek area. It was a brown Acadia-shaped car, with a square magnetic sign on the side.

WAIT A MINUTE! That car didn't belong out here. But it was familiar. THE SPEEDER! The Post Office car! Except the magnetic sign might have said UPS. Not USPS.

I think that's the guy who delivered my package to the wrong house! Crazy Eyeballs!

Even if I'm right, there's nothing I can do about it. Other than shake my fist menacingly at him if we pass on the road again. I might not even do that. Because he has Crazy Eyeballs.

8 comments:

  1. I always just steer clear of people with crazy eyes or neck tattoos.

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    1. You might also add to your list: people who have their tongue split to look like a snake's, and people who get those little implants in their forehead to look like horns.

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  2. Brown vehicle was probably ups. I try to not annoy crazy looking people these days.

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    1. It wasn't the same shade as Big Brown, their boxy delivery truck. More like the color of a toasted marshmallow.

      The color of the car could have been a coincidence, considering the magnetic sign on the door. You'd think a car belonging to UPS would have the logo painted on it. I'm thinking a private contractor, a temp doing Christmas deliveries, who happened to have a brown car.

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  3. I love my regular UPS driver, having trained him well about the rules in my territory. The substitute drivers make me have crazy eyes. All packages are delivered to the office, where the package will be picked up by the tenant. If you decide to disregard this and speed the wrong way down my one way road, you will be chased by a masked crazy lady, who carries a shovel in her car as a weapon. Best not to aggravate her! You will have to stand still until her lecture is over or she is wont to throw that shovel!!

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    1. The shovel is a nice touch. And probably a good persuader, if you brandish it just right.

      Our previous regular UPS lady was great! The dogs would climb onto her first step, wiggling all over with excitement, before she could get out of the truck. They never met a dog-biscuit-tosser they didn't like.

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  4. I wouldn't be shaking my fist at crazy eyeballs guy either. I would even pretend to not be looking at him.

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    1. I guess Crazy Eyeballs has discovered how to get away with slovenly work habits, and possibly commit the perfect crime: by acting crazy enough so people won't get involved.

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