A generic looking automobile pulls into the driveway, braking, and an anxious man exits the car, making a beeline directly for the mailbox, pulling the door open, he’s hit with an ominous feeling as if some horrific disaster were about to befall mankind. Mind going directly to the apocalypse, end times, and the second time Jesus came on her smiling eager face that was so good at hiding the disgust that snatched at every single nerve in her body to be mortified, disgusted, and utterly appalled. Gathering his wits about himself as he does a wardrobe adjustment (the ole tuck it under the belt trick his mom taught him when mom was pop before he met up with Snap & Crackle for their tag popping crack smoking fairies or imps or wtfe they might be)

*redirects self back to story*

*nods at self to show understanding *

*nods in return*

*nods back*

*nods in return*

OKAY ENOUFH OF THT STUPIDS HIT

Reaching into the mailbox to feel for this object that he cannot see, his fingers feel something paper like, maybe hemp paper or maybe something classy like papyrus , fingers wrapping around the parcel he pulls it free of the mailbox’s cold steel grip on his ability to see into this weirdly shaped home accessory. Taking a quick glance at the front of the envelope before hopping back in the car to pull it around back, but something caused him to freeze, that ominous feeling that had overcome him suddenly seemed like it was a distant dream that has yet to be recalled, now washing over him was a sudden surge of acceptance, privilege, importance, and last but not least an almost overwhelming sensation of power, adrenaline coursing through his veins, causing a tingle to shoot down his spine as he suddenly found himself holding a posture that was almost foreign to him, but it felt too good to be wrong he thought, so he dismissed these new swarm of emotions that are typically felt by Olympic gold medalist, which our character of this story is anything but, on the contrary, he was the first to ever be nominated to be officially titled “the least likely to suck seed” as he had a peanut allergy that he liked to joke about since his close call where he was asphyxiated and wait that’s going off of the damn story

*the sound of nails on a chalkboard suddenly shrieks from your speakers while the camera is forced back into position*

Walking into the house, tossing his keys into the bowl of the toilet that he keeps by the door to keep important shit, the keys clang against the porcelain throne as they find their resting place among the stool samples that he’s been holding onto for a potential rectal audit, being an adult and all, keeping track of all your shit can be quite exhausting for our star of the story (if that’s what you can even call it 1-800-530-7665 is the number I think?)

-our character is actually autistic and takes things a bit literal at times, just a little back story so you can better understand things that happen later in the story-

Plopping down into his favorite well worn LayZ-Girl decliner he kicks off his shoes at he prepared himself for the most exciting part of his entire day- opening mail! It’s always his favorite task of the day to find out which company/business/service is going to grace his home with an official letter with a return addressed envelope and everything, these people truly care about making sure their customers pay their bills, the thought of it alone sends shivers down his spine and suddenly he shakes himself free of the intoxicating grip of “mail opening time!”

Reaching over to the table conveniently located by his chair (he prides himself on being so smart) his fingers reaching for the piece of mail on top of the pile, but something causes half of the pile to strangely shift off of the rest as if they were pulling over to the side of the road allowing emergency services to rush past them, still a bit caught up in the sensation of power, he doesn’t bother taking a second thought of the strange event and simply grabs the new contestant on “gonna open some mail bitch” conveniently airing on your favorite local tv station in a truly prime position , right at 2:30 AM when all the people are slumped over in their chairs/couches gently drooling onto the half eaten candy bar wrapper that is will be found plastered to face in the AM upon waking. We’re talking major views, into the single digits even! Household pets count, dogs & cats are 0.5 viewers and then smaller pets like hamsters, fish, hermit crabs are 0.125 viewers each, but these numbers are all created by some super smart looking person with clothes on, a pair of glasses that aren’t even broken, and they even speak in complete sentences, unlike our author *smh tsk tsk* but yeah super duper smart, was probably one of those people who played checkers with the different funny looking white and black pieces, idk why they didn’t just stick the whole red & black, we had the Indians and African Americans angry at each other until they saw this new game of checkers and then it suddenly because a white vs black thing, not sure if they even know this is what caused this division of people, but I figured if you’ve read this far, you’d appreciate that insider information that is to stay hush hush, if the government finds out I’ve released this information, I’ll instantly be teleported to their underground lizard home base and I’ll be stuck eating flies and laying around on rocks all day to try to stay in touch with my appreciation for music. So anyways almost 1000 so 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2