Humor

25 Strange Things to Say to the Postman as He Opens Your Mailbox

1. “Why are you always doing that? Who are you?”

2. “I’ll need to see some form of identification before you can stick anything in my box.”

3. “Did you know your steering wheel is on the wrong side? I think you should take the truck back and get a refund.”

4. “Are you here about the free oil change? Just pull around back and we’ll get you lubed right up.”

5. “I’m lonely and I have dark thoughts. Will you be my friend?”

6. “Thank GOD you made it. I’ll show you where the backed-up toilet is. It’s kind of a gusher, so I hope your brought your own boots. Mine floated away an hour ago. Speaking of, I haven’t seen Grandma in a while, either.”

7. “I told you not to come back here. Now I’m gonna have to notify the Elders of the Corn and they are not going to be happy. I hope you already got your crops in for this season because it’s about to get Old-Testament vindictive up in here.”

8. “Thank you for patronizing Brenda’s Drive-Thru Sperm Bank. We aim to please and we hope you do, too. In this cup right here. Do you need any magazines to help you out?”

9. “The trees talk to me. Well, one of them does. The others are just shy.”

10. “You realize that one of these times there will be a snake in this mailbox. It’s a mathematical inevitability. And the Pentecostals in my family are always misplacing things.”

11. “It’s about time you finally made it back to my table. My water glass has been empty for the last twenty-four hours.”

12. “Why do you keep leaving me? What am I doing wrong? Tell me how to fix myself!”

13. “Would you happen to know where I can get my hands on some goat blood in the next thirty minutes?”

14. “Please, mister, please. Don’t play B-17.”

15. “I’m double-jointed!”

16. “Do you think Mama Cass really choked on that sandwich?”

17. “I actually DO know the way to San Jose. But it will cost you.”

18. “Are you my daddy?”

19. “Peace. Tranquility. Insanity.”

20. “Do you taste like chicken?”

21. “If that’s a bill, nobody in this house has any money so there’s no point in leaving it.”

22. “The proper etiquette when approaching the throne is to bow deeply and give up all remnants of your self-esteem. That’s just how we do it in the Trump Administration. Oh, and be prepared to lie a lot.”

23. “Studies have shown that most accidents in the home occur when men who don’t live in that home stomp their ignorant ass across carefully-cultivated begonias whilst approaching a small metal box and the matriarch of said home takes note of the vile indiscretion.”

24. “What have you done with my fan mail? Why are you hiding it from me?

25. “If you’re here to sell us a vacuum cleaner, Mom said you can suck it. And she needs another beer.”

 

Previously published in “The Sound and the Fury” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Slight changes made for this post.

Story behind the photo: The outer portal of my mailbox. It’s built into the wall of our 1950s house. There’s a little door on the inside we can pop open in order to retrieve the daily treasures. It sounds quaint, but the reality is that the whole contraption was built for old-school, postcard-size mail. Behemoth, modern-day correspondence, like catalogs and legal-size court orders, do not slip easily into said conduit. There’s nothing like being wrenched from a deep sleep at 6AM because the begonia-destroying postman is trying to shove a Pottery Barn compendium into a toaster slot…

Side note to the various folks who commented on the last incarnation of this post: Several of you offered up some wonderful ideas to include in the next edition, and I really did mean to do that. But I had a lot of roughage with dinner tonight, and I’m not entirely focused. Please forgive…

38 replies »

  1. Re 2;.I have been a postal delivery operative,and any comment from the recipient approaching the non delivery of bills for WHATEVER reason resulted in a weeks worth of mail being folded spindled and mutilated- at the least. At the worst, your letter from great aunt Maude would be transformed into confetti. Ah, those sweet happy days, before I went postal…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. These are all awesome, and some of them would have fit right in at my ill-fated lingerie party;-) We don’t have a postman anymore–we all just have boxes in a parking lot. I miss the old days, seeing the mailman coming to the house with a package (as the actress said to the bishop, haha!)

    Liked by 1 person

    • According to Wikipedia, the song was originally released by someone else but did not chart, and has since been covered by a number of other folks, none of whom I’ve ever heard of, so, basically, it’s hers…. 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  3. BWAHAHAHAHHAAA!! I really REALLY want one of those ‘in house’ mailboxes. Alas I’m doomed to be a part of the ‘community box’ wherein a fairly sizable little compartment is ‘mine’. Along with 25 others, plus a ‘big package’ one that’s reserved for those with Pottery Barn compendiums which don’t fit in ANY size box, save the jumbotron one like our package box. Now being a part of the enclave/collective has it’s problems. A. You have to go out to get your mail, and on days when getting dressed isn’t part of the plan, well I just leave whatever shite I’ve gotten in the box. B. You often get the wrong mail, because whatever dweeb who needs glasses badly is delivering today can’t read. Having graduated from the Utah School System which makes learning things like reading or understand what numbers MEAN, a thing not important. More important is going deer hunting, learning to be a GOOD wife, and what it means to go on a mission. Yeah, every mail box has its thorns…. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ah, I remember the “community boxes” from my apartment-living days. The most annoying aspect for me was the “lurkers”, who would hang around the boxes and then latch onto anyone who would look their direction. I am not a social person, and the last thing I need is Gladys from 203 rushing up to tell me everything about her entire life. I don’t want that. I just want to retrieve my bills and return to the security of the Fortress of Solitude. I often waited until midnight or so just to avoid all that mess. Of course, at THAT time you have an entirely different box crowd, one that could potentially lead to a date on Saturday night, so there’s that… 😉

      Like

  4. BWAHAHAHAHHAAA!! I really REALLY want one of those ‘in house’ mailboxes. Alas I’m doomed to be a part of the ‘community box’ wherein a fairly sizable little compartment is ‘mine’. Along with 25 others, plus a ‘big package’ one that’s reserved for those with Pottery Barn compendiums which don’t fit in ANY size box, save the jumbotron one like our package box. Now being a part of the enclave/collective has it’s problems. A. You have to go out to get your mail, and on days when getting dressed isn’t part of the plan, well I just leave whatever shite I’ve gotten in the box. B. You often get the wrong mail, because whatever dweeb who needs glasses badly is delivering today can’t read. Having graduated from the Utah School System which makes learning things like reading or understand what numbers MEAN, a thing not important. More important is going deer hunting, learning to be a GOOD wife, and what it means to go on a mission. Yeah, every mail box has its thorns…. 😉

    Like

  5. Wait — did Mama Cass really choke on a sandwich? How did I miss that from the last time this aired? Augh!

    As to your excuse of excessive roughage? My God, man. You’re a bloomin’ blogging wizard. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

    • Well, I believe the “official” cause of death with Mama is that her heart simply gave out, the result of dramatic weight fluctuations and, well, all those drugs. But I wasn’t actually there, so I can’t legally sign any affidavits…

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Had me smiling here, good one. I specially like the one, where is my fan mail? You are hiding it? I should use that one every time they come to give me a card from the State saying I have to pay this or that.

    Liked by 1 person

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