Thursday, August 30, 2018

Never a dull minute, thankfully

Over these years, as I’ve learned more about my job,I have merrily passed on that knowledge for the benefit of those who come after me. Discovering tasks that a churchchick is expected to do flavors the work.  The  list grows, even now. File this under job description/miscellaneous….possibly staff support.

I got a call from my boss. He was in the car with his wife on their way to a funeral.

“ Church chick, Bobbie- the -mailman stopped us when we were pulling out of our driveway. He frantically waved us  to roll down our window and he had a tight grip on a hand full of mail. He was so up set, and worried. He said he had just delivered mail to a house that had a strong and peculiar odor. He’s afraid something very bad has happened there. He’s terrified. I told him not to worry and that I’d take care of it.”

“Hmmmm”, 14 years on the job said.

“So, you saw Bobbie-the-mailman and he’s afraid something horrible has happened there? The odor reeked of treacherous: scary, awful?”

“ Very, very bad. He was panicked!”

“ And you told him you’d take care of it?”

“Yes, and that seemed to calm him right down.”

“And so why are you calling me?”

“Well, I was wondering if you’d maybe go over there and…..”

“Take care of it?”

“ Well, yeah.”

“Ok,no problem, I just want to be sure I’ve got this right. Our mailman (who is a strong and stocky guy who walks miles every day so his stamina is also pretty fit) is freaking out over a possible crime scene across the street and you want me to risk my life to check it out?”

“Yes, and can you call me when you find out?”

I loved the trust.

“ Of course I will.”

I walked across the street to said house. I noticed no sinister wafts. I went up the front steps and there on the ground beside the steps lay a mountain of used doggie bags that were in full sun, and covered with flies and other worse crawling creatures.

“That’s probably what it is.” I said to myself. But what if it wasn’t that?

I opened the mail slot in the door and peeked in. The mail that Bobbie-the-mailman delivered in a mad rush was still half way stuck in the slot, but I could still see through. I didn’t notice anything out of order, but of course, I’d never been there before.

I pushed the mail over and stuck my nose into the mail slot and took a sniff. ….another….Nothing.

“Well, I guess it’s nothing.” and I headed back across the street to work.

Bobbie- the -mailman was just coming out of the church.”Did you notice anything? Anything at all? I mean people can be hurt or die and be left there for days and I don’t want anything like that on my route.” 
His heels clicked sharply. “I’m a mailman who cares.”

“You sure are, my friend. You sure are. I didn’t really notice anything other than the dog poop, but if it happens again tomorry, we can go together to check. That troubling odor might be coming from the vacant house next door that is for sale, or maybe even the house on the other side.”

There we were standing with our heads together looking at the houses in question, when the door of the poop house opened and a woman's head appeared. Crazy gawking eyes looked around, crackling with suspicion.  Her hair was mussed and messy, stressed. She stepped out onto her front porch holding the wrong end of a broom. 

“She sort of reminds me of Gladys Kravitts.” I crossed my hands genie style.

“Yeah, she does.”

" Oh, wow. She's looking pretty freaked out, man"

We turned our backs to her. “Okay, Bobbie, listen. If a Police car pulls up in the next few minutes you may have to bail me out of jail. She’s going to say,”I know it wasn’t the mailman, because he already delivered the mail. It was someone else, I saw a nose. I heard a distinct sniff.”

“ Okay, I can do that. No problem.” We parted ways.

I called my boss to let him know the neighborhood appeared to be safe again, and not to worry. “I knew you could do it.” Such faith. or such something…

No sign of police cars later that day or since, but I have noticed an ADT security systems van out there the last couple of days. 

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