I met an alien once. It was hard to believe at first; it was dark for starters and I had had a rough day fighting some of my demons. I was coming home from night school where a few of my class-mates had decided to get together and play a little prank on me. You know; the old "Put some poop in paper and set on fire" type thing. Real funny. So I was walking home with a heel full of bad smells and feeling like the whole world was on my case when I heard this voice come out of the darkness.
"Hey, kid." I have to say that I really was not in the mood for catching up with people I never knew that night so I ignored it. I kept walking on down the street. I was going home, eventually, but I made for the hot-dog vendor on Church Lane. I used to stop by and grab a bite after school most nights and that night was more than just most nights. Anyway, I walked up to the van in the usual way. One thing I noticed; the street light was flickering on and off. I stood there for a while looking at the flickering light.
"Hey, kid." Again. Some lady it was this time. I was looking at the light thinking two things. One, Why am I being called a kid? and two,When I turn around I have two chances of seeing where this voice actually came from; zilch and zero. Because your eyes don't work very good when they have been staring at lights. But being a lady's voice I have to admit I was curious.
"Yeh, what do you want?" I said. "I don't want any trouble." I said. "It's been a long day." And a half was the truth of it.
"Come over here" said the lady's voice. But I could hear she was trying to stop herself from laughing.
So I said " You guys have a lot of nerve." I turned around to see where the hot-dog man was but he must have gone out for a break for some reason.
"Look" said the voice over by the corner behind the mail-box "Get the hell over here will ya!" Now I did not know who this was or what the joke was, if it was a joke, but if it was a joke then I sure wish that someone would let me in on it at that stage. So I walked over to the damn mail-box on the corner out the front of the bank.
"All right I'm here" I said. I waited for further instructions as they say in the movies. "Where are you?" I said "And more importantly what are you?"
"Move closer to the mail-box" And there was that muffled laughter again. I have to say right now that right then I didn't know what to think or how to feel because the voice, the female voice actually came from the god-damn mail-box. I swear it on my mother's grave, who thinks I'm a whack job.
I took a handful of steps until I was one foot away from the mail-box. "Alright" I said. I'm here. The mail man is here. What are you? Agent 13?"
Stifled laughter again coming from inside the actual mail-box. "I want you to take this." And a letter slips out from inside the box. I was not going to touch it while was alive, kind of thing, do you understand? I picked up the letter from the ground and looked at it. A front and back inspection of the envelope revealed to me that there was nothing unusual about it. "Now," continued the lady in the mail-box " I want you to take it..." and then laughter became uncontrollable convulsions, fits of hysterical madness. She would stop for a second or two to compose herself and then as soon as she started to say a word she rendered herself completely noncompus mentus. I expected the mail-box to actually start rocking if not explode. But that was the funny thing, it never even shook a bit. "Take it to the toy shop." Some more laughter, contained as usual I guessed to keep her whereabouts hidden. Fat chance if she could not get it together.
"What, the one over there, by the..."
"Sh sh sh. Yeah that one. Be quiet, don't let anyone know. Just put it in the mail slot by the front door and come back and I'll give you another one."
I felt like saying, but I didn't, "What is the joke?" It was always laughing. I did not know if it was at me or maybe someone else was in the mail-box with it/her. I really felt offended. I took the letter and delivered it like the lady said and returned.
"Job done." I said. Over the course of the next three hours I delivered approximately forty eight letters and parcels which put together at the same time would not have fitted in that small mail-box. I became accustomed to the convulsive secretions of laughter and I think I performed my delivery services satisfactorily. I think my laughing friend also thought that I had done my job good enough because at the end of the night she gave me a letter that had a credit card in it. Unlimited. I'll say it again my friend; unlimited credit. That's no joke, but I am laughing. So if a laughing mail-box ever talks to you on your way home from night school. Do not be rude to it, let it finish what it has to say and join the club.