The Package
The package on the sideboard glared at him. The courier delivered it just after breakfast
and it had been doing so all morning.
“It’s not going anywhere,” Karen said. She shifted the bundle of dirty laundry under her arm.
Gary kept his eyes fixed on the intruder. It was not the first time the Sir
Laff-A-Lot Novelty Company had insinuated itself into their home. “I could get rid of it,” he said.
“No, you can’t.
He ordered it. He’ll wonder why
it hasn’t arrived. Anyway, he’ll be back
from golf soon, just relax.”
How could he relax? At least the old man wasn’t making a fool of
himself with his golf buddies.
Karen rolled her eyes and glanced out the
window. “Your brother is here,” she said
and disappeared down the hall.
The door burst open and the foam nose dangling on
the coat hook flicked at the sudden breeze.
Dean, witnessing the standoff, shifted his eyes from the package to his
brother and back again. “Jesus, not
another one,” he exclaimed.
Gary slumped further into his armchair. “It’s smaller than the last one.”
“Huh, what do you figure... glasses with eyeballs
on springs?”
“We had those as kids, if I recall correctly.”
Dean leaned in to squint at the label. “Could be black soap.”
Gary shook his head. “How did black soap fool anyone? It started out black, it lathered black, it
was just black. I wonder if comic books
still have ads in the back for all that stuff.”
Dean gave the nose a gentle squeeze, eased it
from the hook, checked the fit in the hallway mirror. “We had a joy buzzer, too. I distinctly remember those ads promising
lightning bolts into the handshake victim.”
“Yeah, the thing vibrated, little buzz and even
less joy.”
“Black-eye kaleidoscope, itching powder, ice cube
with a fly in it.”
“Some of that stuff was so ridiculous. Kids are such suckers.”
Dean reclined on the couch. “You got the x-ray specs.”
“I did.
Seventy-five cents. Based on a
real scientific optical principle. It
promised that you could see the bones through your hand. I had terrible anxiety buying them because
the ad also suggested you could see through clothes.”
“That’s really why you bought them.”
“Of course.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. A lone cicada began to rasp in the growing heat
of the late morning.
“We went through a lot of Mad magazines when we
were kids,” Gary finally said. “Did we
have a subscription or just buy them from the corner store each month?”
“I can't remember,” Dean replied. “Probably just bought them at the store, a
subscription would have been a big outlay of cash for a couple of kids.”
“Yep.”
They both looked at the package again.
“I guess we have to admit it,” Dean said. “Dad is going funny.”
“Yep.”
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