Why I want to go postal in the post office

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mustynutz

mustynutz

Sicc OG
#1
Jun 27, 2002
14,470
135
63
#1
And you thought you were having a bad day. In sales, you have a lot of bad days.

This day turned out to be really bad.

I'm really not that good of a salesman. You could say I'm mediocre at best, but that would be nice. The truth is that I flat out suck. I don't believe in what I sell, I don't like the people to whom I'm selling, I don't like to travel, I don't like to dress up in business attire, and I really don't like the fact that no sale equals no food. That's the way it's been these past few weeks. I'm now behind on my rent, I have no food in the frig, and I knew I'd be working triple time calling B-leads and trying to drum up business to make the extra money just to get back to break-even.

And you thought you were having a bad day. In sales, you have a lot of bad days.

This day turned out to be really bad.

I'm really not that good of a salesman. You could say I'm mediocre at best, but that would be nice. The truth is that I flat out suck. I don't believe in what I sell, I don't like the people to whom I'm selling, I don't like to travel, I don't like to dress up in business attire, and I really don't like the fact that no sale equals no food. That's the way it's been these past few weeks. I'm now behind on my rent, I have no food in the frig, and I knew I'd be working triple time calling B-leads and trying to drum up business to make the extra money just to get back to break-even.

So today I finally sold one. It was some slow middle-aged guy who lived just south of Atlantic City on the shore. He needed a policy for whatever reason - I didn't listen. I just walked in there, smiled, handed him a pen and made him sign on the dotted line. Walking out, I knew I had to get his application and check to the home office pronto, so I found the nearest post office and proceeded to do just that. The post office was located about six miles south of Atlantic City, just off the beach and just far enough away from civilization to be categorized as a hick post office. I learned two valuable lessons by walking into that post office:

1. Post offices aren't made alike.
2. I should have driven the extra six miles to Atlantic City.

The entire post office was as big as a large woodshed. As a matter of fact, it was a large woodshed. The whole thing, top to bottom, back and front, was made entirely of pine. As soon as I walked in, the sweet smell of pine slammed me in the face. Right behind the wooden entrance door was a huge box for letters. It was also made of the exact same color pine, and the word LETTERS was burned into the front of it. It would have made a cool mailbox for one of the beach houses around here, but it just looked strangely out of place here. I had letters to mail, so I pulled them out of my inside suit pocket and dropped them in the box.

And with the letters went the check that the slow little man had just handed me a half hour earlier. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"Shit!" I said, but it was too late. The check fell in the LETTERS box and the box was sealed with a Master lock the size of my fist. The curse vibrated through the wood shack and all the tellers (who, by the way, were all old hags) stared right in my direction.

I held up my hand as if to excuse myself. "Sorry, uh, ladies, uh, ma'ams, I ... uh ... can one of you nice ladies help me here?" I tried to smile and act embarrassed, but they only squinted suspiciously.

I walked up to one of the two windows at the back of the shed. The younger of the two women was standing behind the glass. She must have been at least 70. "You see, I dropped a check in that there LETTERS box and I need to really get it out of there, so could you ..."

"Is it mail?" was all she said.

"No it's just a loose check and -"

"If it was mail we could just take it out and resort it but since it's not you're going to have to go over to the table in the corner and fill out a claim form."

I drew in my breath. "Ma'am you don't understand. I really need to mail that check right now. It's got to get to New York City by -"

Her gaze didn't so much as flicker. "Go to the table in the corner and fill out a ... claaaaaim forrrrm."

I stood there stunned. "Okay, where's the table in the corner?"

She didn't answer.

I turned around and looked right - nothing. Then I looked left and I saw a very old lady sitting behind an even older wooden table. Bingo, I thought, and that was no pun intended. I walked right over. There was no chair, so I leaned over the table and stuck my face right in this grandma's grill.

"Hi. I need a claim form."

No response.

"For the LETTERS box. I dropped something in there that shouldn't be in there and I was told that I need a -"

She held up her index finger for what seemed like ten seconds, then lowered it and smiled. Then we stared at each other for what could have been an eternity.

"Ma'am?" No response again. "Ma'am, can you hear me?"

She scowled. "Claim forms for what?"

"I need to get a check out of the LETTERS box-"
 
mustynutz

mustynutz

Sicc OG
#2
Jun 27, 2002
14,470
135
63
#2
She bolted upright out of her chair. The suddenness of it all sent me tumbling backward toward the center of the room. I almost tumbled into the LETTERS box and knocked the whole fucking thing over.

"YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! EVER! DO YOU HEAR ME, YOUNG WHIPPER SNAPPING MAN? NOW GET YOURSELF TOGETHER!"

I regained my balance and gaped at this old lady who couldn't have been a day under 90. I stormed back over to the woman behind the glass. "What the hell kind of operation are you running here?"

Younger Old Lady scowled from behind the glass, then she took off her reading glasses and disappeared. I sighed and stared back at the lady behind the table in the corner. She was standing again and smiling. I knew that smile couldn't mean anything good.

I felt a tap on my left shoulder. I twisted around to see Younger Old Lady from behind the glass stading inches from my face. A hand appeared and blasted me across my mug. Her fake old lady nails slashed through my cheek.

"You don't treat people like that," she said with a straight face. I could feel the fury leaking through her pores.

My blood started to boil with anger and disbelief. "Now you listen to me-"

"NO YOU LISTEN TO ME!" she answered.

"NO, GOD DAMN IT!" I screamed and took a huge step towards her. She whittled backwards on her old lady shoes. "GOD DAMN YOU AND THIS FUCKING ... HICK ASS POST OFFICE! I WANT MY FUCKING CHECK OUT OF THAT LETTERS BOX RIGHT NOW AND I'M NOT FILLING OUT A FUCKING FORM AND I'M NOT GOING TO ASK THIS OLD BITCH OVER THERE IN THE CORNER OR ANY OTHER OLD BITCH IN THIS FUCKING HICK FUCKING TOWN OF YOURS. NOW GIVE ME MY CHECK, BITCH!"

She stormed out of the concourse and back behind the glass. She reappeared in the teller window a few seconds later, stared me down with that scowl, and picked up a black phone. She never took her gaze off me.

From the ancient old lady in the corner: "Heh, heh, heh."

"What the fuck are you laughing at? Huh?"

"You," she mumbled. "You, you're such a little piece of shit. You young ones got no respect. You grew up in the wrong times, sonny. A hundred years earlier they woulda SHOT you in this down. Hanged you and dragged you around this building with a horse."

I started walking towards her. Every step that I took on the pine was augmented in my ears. A flock of sirens blared far off in the distance.

"Lady, I don't know who you are, and I don't know where you came from, but you and your little friends here just made a big mistake."

A muffled voice from behind the teller window glass. It was Younger Old Lady. "I called the cops, you pig."

I kept staring at the lady in the corner. She was smiling. She still had most of her teeth. "All I gotta say is, I hope that glass is bulletproof."

I spun around and pulled the short-barreled Uzi Carbine out of my trench coat. The weight would have flustered any amateur, but I had no problem with it, even with one hand. The first shot hit the teller glass right in between Younger Old Lady's eyes. The glass didn't break. The second shot hit the glass right where her heart would be. She dropped to the floor after shot number two. I spun again and saw the lady in the corner still standing there and smiling. I aimed at her throat and pulled. The bullet hit her jugular and exited out the other side, pummeling the pine wall behind her. The next six shots hit her right in the center of the chest, blasting her backward into the corner. The muffled sound of shells hitting soft pine resonated after the blasts.

I heard the metal door to the teller chamber click as the lock was engaged. I took the first plug of C4 out and slammed it in the corner of the door jamb. I then triggered the timer and bolted back under the table in the corner. The blast blew the LETTERS box into the corner, slamming it against me. I heard the two old ladies behind the counter scream. Debris was landing everywhere. Somewhere near me, the steel doorknob hit pine wood. Something was burning. Probably one of the wooden walls.

I reholstered the carbine and pulled out the Desert Eagle Mark XIX as I entered the teller chamber. The old ladies were trying to find a place to hide, but there was nowhere to go behind that counter. I found the two of them at the back of the smoke-filled chamber, lying on the ground in the corner. They were yelping like little dogs.

I aimed the ten inch barrel right at the Younger Old Lady's ass.

"Thanks for being a bitch," I said, and pulled the trigger six times. The reverb was deafening, but I was used to it. Each shot sprayed more blood around the chamber. The second teller started screaming and slid from under Younger Old Lady. She stood up and bared her teeth. Just like a dog. I took aim right at her torso and just kept shooting. The first two shots slammed her into the back of the pine wall, blowing holes right through it. The third shot hit her right in the mouth, sending teeth and blood flying all over the corner of the chamber. The fourth shot blew half her head away and ripped the other half of her head right off her body. The next five shots hit the wall and went right through.

I love that gun.

I reholstered the ten-inch and pulled out a larger plug of C4. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that only sick fucks walk the streets with two semiautomatic assault weapons and fully-functional C4 plugs. I hadn't planned on blowing up this hick ass little post office, but then again I didn't plan on getting assaulted by three old ladies. Preparation was ninety-nine percent, baby. I was prepared, and I was winning.

I walked back into the main concourse and stuck the second plug of C4 on the still-intact LETTERS box laying in the corner. Fuck the check. I had more important things to worry about.

I hit the timer and ran towards the front door. The impending explosion blew me five feet in the air. I hit the sand parking lot hard, and the gashes from Younger Old Lady smarted from the impact.

Then I heard the vaccum, and -

BOOOOOOM!

I twisted around, my trench coat and weapons sliding off me. Debris was raining down, and the sky went black with dust and smoke. Wood and letters flapped in the air like applause. The sirens were much closer now, almost on top of me. I twisted around again and covered my head, and heard a large object land just inches from my face. It was the table, the one formerly in the corner of Post Office Box Hickville, New Jersey, Zero One Seven Oh Fuck Me. I heard cars sliding to a stop in the sand lot around me. Doors were opening and closing. The sound of guns being taken off safety snapped me back into reality.

Sick fucks. That's what they call guys like me. Treat others like you want to be treated. They didn't just make that phrase up so you would be nice to people. They made it up so that, when the day comes that you meet a sick fuck like me, you treat him nice. Because if you don't treat him nice, he does sick fuck things like this.

I flipped the corner table over and dragged myself and my trench coat underneath it. This would be my final resting place. The Uzi Carbine and the Mark XIX Desert Eagle were both already off safety. I had just gone postal on the post office. Now it was time to go postal on the cops.

Treat others like you want to be treated. Or face the consequences when you meet a psychopath like myself.

If only I could see the headlines tomorrow.
 
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