I write to my entire department on Jan. 26, 2011 at 12:21 p.m.
So I’m a terrible person.
I received a package in the mail at my apartment and it was addressed to the person who used to live there.
I had good intentions. I brought the package to work to give to the USPS people so they could forward it on to where it needed to go. But then a bunch of time went by and I decided to forget it.
The package has been on my desk for about two weeks and in my purging spree, I decided I would open it and see if it was important. If it was, I would make sure that Rosalie Delgado received her package.
So I opened it and it’s a bunch of stale holiday cookies. But there’s some biscotti in there and some truffles that are pretty good.
It’s all in the food cube if you’re so inclined.
R replies all:
Thanks for sharing… I think. Though stale cookies are still better than no cookies (right, J?)
The other N.P. plugs her Girl Scout Cookies:
Well, if you want FRESH cookies . . .
Well isn’t someone just a Nancy Pants…
Then, J unleashes this:
This whole thing sounds crumby to me. I mean the cascade of illegality committed by one Ms. P. rises to the level of a federal crime—why don’t you just put a penny on the rail road tracks or burn a dollar bill while you’re at it you hoodlum?
As for poor Ms. Rosalie, I mean, who knows what this woman’s story is. Alone on Christmas, waiting for a pathetic box of cookies to arrive from her children, who send her sweets every three months to stay in the old lady’s will. But the cookies didn’t come this Christmas, so Rosalie probably went to her lawyer the next day and wrote them all out. The kids, who had been living the life of the prodigal son in anticipation of a trust fund transfer on the day the estate tax expires now must go out and get jobs in this economy and they can only HOPE to be as successful as the fine young man who passed out free chicken at the Gallery mall, but what is more likely is they will decide that the answer is a life of crime and debauchery.
Yeah, the whole thing sounds crumby. It’s not going to keep me from going over and getting a cookie though. I’m not that concerned.
Wow. Just Wow.
You, my dear, are a family wrecking federal felon.
Maybe. But at least someone got to eat them before the last cookie crumbled.