|Blogs > rm_oral_phaeton > The world I know|
I had been looking to start a blog for a while, but never knew how to break the ice.
I checked my mail this morning, and amidst the pile of junk and already-paid bills that I pulled out, I noticed a letter with a hand-written address that was addressed to my apartment, but with no recipient. When I got back upstairs, I examined this envelope further. It was a normal letter-sized envelope. The return address was from a town about 45 minutes away and was in the form of a self-stick personal address label. Written above the label in large text was, "I AM WAiTiNG". I looked at the sender's name, and the name didn't ring any bells to me. The rest of the handwriting was large, mostly caps, and appeared to be written by a fountain pen.
I opened the envelope up, and found a christmas card in it. It had a picture of a St. Bernard puppy holding a gift, and the words, "Thinking of you at Christmas" on it. The inside continued the text with, "...and hoping your holidays are filled with joy." I thought that it was very sweet, whoever this guy was that was sending me a christmas card. The writing on the card was from a different author than the envelope. The card writing read:
I LL TELL YOU WHEN
I NEED SOME,
HELP. HOPE YOU CAN
This is confusing me, as I have no idea who this guy(Bill) is. I'm still trying to figure out if Chuck is his lover, and he got the wrong address, or if it's wife's lover, and he thinks I'm him. My train of thought went that maybe if it is in fact his wife, I should make a move? Either way, I wanted to get to the bottom of this. I did some looking around, and turn up this guy's phone number. However, common sense kicked in before I dialed. I instead called a neighbor and asked his opinion.
He read the letter and envelope, and started laughing. His response was for me to lock my door. I mentioned that I found Bill's phone number, and was considering calling it to see what the scoop was. His advice was at that point to just stick it in a plastic bag in case someone comes looking for fingerprints.
I set it aside on the corner of my desk for now, as a story that could possibly unfold. Most likely this will be the last I hear of Bill and/or Chuck, but you never know.