The mailman is stealing my mail.
I know he is. I can see it on his face when he hands me a pile of catalogues and fliers for oil-changes and pet supplies. Or a stack of bills.
I used to like my mailman. His name is Doug. He’s the first mail carrier I’ve ever considered giving a Christmas gift to–cookies or something.
I’ve always been cordial. More than that, I’ve been friendly.
“Oh, Mr. Timmel, I see you’ve got another of those fancy holographic envelopes. Very cool,” he said at least thrice weekly–for over a year.
Now, if I bother to open the door, he smiles at me like a shark.
Doug hasn’t handed me one of those “fancy holographic envelopes” in months. He’s taking them.
I know he is, because his teeth are perfect now.
And he doesn’t wear glasses anymore.
His gold necklace collection, which he wears with him on his route, is getting so heavy he’s stooping.
My next-door-neighbor told me Doug said he wasn’t going to be the mailman much longer. That he was going to retire.
How does a twenty-six-year-old retire from the post office?
By stealing my mail.
He’s wrecking everything. If he doesn’t stop, he’ll kill me. And everyone else.
***
I’m stealing Timmel’s mail. Been doing it for almost a year.
Those big, silver envelopes with the holographic designs–who wouldn’t be interested?
Timmel’s been getting them since he moved in. They come about four or five times a week. When I started mentioning them, I knew they were something special. Timmel is obviously not a card player. He’s got no poker face. Dipshit.
There’s cash in them. Lots of it.
Usually it comes in hundred dollar bills–brand new. The most I’ve hauled from one of those shiny packages is two hundred thousand dollars–nearly all of it in thousand dollar bills. Have you ever seen one of those? I’ll have to be careful where I spend them.
There’s no return address on the envelopes. The postmark is local.
I have no idea who sends so much money to the little weirdo, or why. Whoever it is, they’re making me rich. I went to Vegas last week–lost seventy grand without blinking. Had the time of my life. And bling? Just check it.
I’m quittin’ though. I’ve saved up nearly ten million. I’m moving.
Timmel definitely knows what’s going on. The fact that he hasn’t done anything about it worries me. I mean, after the first forty grand, I was ready to run at a moment’s notice. The money is buried. My bug-out bag is packed and hidden in the trees behind my house. I slept there for the first month or so, totally expecting the cops to show up at any minute.
When he didn’t do anything, I spent a few months living it up. Lately I started thinking about where the money might come from. And how truly scary it is that Timmel hasn’t called the cops.
That, and the packets of blood that I find along with the cash once every couple of months. Little round pouches with needles coming out the side. Creeps me the hell out.
Timmel doesn’t get any other mail, either. Bills and junk, but no letters from people, no cards. The way he’s looked at me lately…
***
It took me too long to notice Doug was stealing my “fancy holographic envelopes”. I’d ignored the accounting vouchers. When I went over them, I found millions missing.
I’m worried that Doug could have told someone. I can’t do a thing until I know all the details. Has he destroyed the envelopes? Does he know how we use the post office? What about the blood? Would he be so wise as to have it analyzed? Would he have the ability? Certainly, the police would.
My part of the operation could collapse because Doug loves gold. Ridiculous.
I’ll have a talk with him today when he delivers the mail.
“Doug, if you don’t stop taking my envelopes, I’ll have to kill you.” “Look, Doug, you need to know that the future is at stake here.” “That’s my blood you’re stealing. My body can’t take the chemistry of this atmosphere without my infusions.”
Maybe the whole truth, as simply put as possible. “Doug, all that money you stole was for a private space flight program I’m secretly funding. The cash comes from the future. We manufacture it, but we can’t send a huge gob at once. I’m the heaviest thing ever sent back. If you knew what it took to do so…
“You see, Doug, it turns out that the governments of the world will soon decide that space exploration isn’t worth the money. Then the environment will collapse around them and all of their spending will go to trying to save their miserable lives. After that, humankind degenerates into primitive survivalists. It takes another twenty thousand years to gain the technology to even think about traveling in space.
“Imagine what the future would be like if, at this crucial time, someone invested a great deal of money and knowledge in private space flight. Governments be damned. What if humankind could escape the coming calamity? Say, move to Rainfar 2 or Gaiea in the next seventy years instead of twenty-six thousand years from now?
“Imagine, Doug, if your teeth were still yellow, but in my time, humanity thrived in the galaxy, inhabiting pristine planets that are instead infested by the Grii–giant, poison-spitting lizards out to destroy us. What if we’d been there first? What if we’d known about the Grii before they had space travel technology? What if there were more of us? What if, Doug? What if?”
***
I’m delivering a silver package to Timmel today. Big fat one. Hope he’s not home.
Mail carriers and time travel! Someday maybe Kevin Shamel will throw together an anthology and that will be its theme. It’s strange things like postcards from 1914 arriving in Kansas in 2007, and other true stories that inspire him. That and old paranoia about the mailman stealing his important mail.
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28 Responses to “MAIL • by Kevin Shamel”
Comments
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June 19th, 2008 at 1:32 am
Kevin:
Shiny! Loved every word of it and gave it a five.
Of course, as a former postal employee, I have to … What? … Oh … Never mind.
K.C.
June 19th, 2008 at 3:29 am
It’d be a lot simpler to smuggle back the plans for a spaceship and post them on the internet.
June 19th, 2008 at 4:00 am
Gerard you have no soul! Lovely original story. Like the idea of the mail man/scifi anthology. Do it!
June 19th, 2008 at 4:07 am
The narration changes are a real shame, in my opinion. They feel like an easy cop-out in what is otherwise a great story.
June 19th, 2008 at 4:18 am
Yip, Bringing Sci-fi to Your Door
June 19th, 2008 at 5:01 am
Really enjoyed this story, Kevin. The beginning is such a hook, I couldn’t resist it, HAD to read on and on. The sci-fi part slowed me down, and I had to concentrate to understand it (since I don’t read much science fiction) but it worked for me. Good stuff!
June 19th, 2008 at 5:05 am
Quit picking on me Hickman-Gibb. I’m entitled to my opinion and no amount of bullying by you is going to make me shy away from a love of internal consistency in fiction. No amount!!!
June 19th, 2008 at 5:28 am
War Chancellor Milvan turned to the scrawny underling coiled obsequiously by his desk. “Give me your report,” he hissed, “and make it snappy. I’m late for the hunt.”
Like most of the scientist caste Larvox was underweight and puny, barely standing twenty feet tall at the shoulder but right now he was half that, head bowed, shoulders pressed to the floor to demonstrate his low status and lack of threat.
“Section A reports they are no closer to the temporal transportation of physical objects, but section B continues to have success transtiming the thought control beams to the courier the humans are using.”
Milvan nodded. “That was my nephew’s idea wasn’t it?” Larvox nodded. “And you all thought it was a stupid idea didn’t you?”
Larvox stuttered a reply “n-n-not at all, no-one would ever-”
“Of course you’d never. If you did you’d be as dead as he is. If there’s one thing I value less than insubordination it’s competition from family members.”
The burly chancellor turned his back on the underling. “So it’s all coming together. By cutting off the supply of funds to their agent we will eventually encourage them to abandon their careful approach and instead they will transport back the plans for their pulse engines. And then we strike using our mind-controlled agents to intercept the plans. After that we transmit them to our home world using the frequencies that our people have been monitoring for millennia, ever watchful for enemies yet unknown.”
Milvan laughed gutturally, poison flecking his chest and chins. “And that will be the end of humanity. We will tear out their their weak warm-blooded hearts before they are even born!”
June 19th, 2008 at 5:55 am
Interesting concept. The change in POV threw me a bit, but still that was a great story!
June 19th, 2008 at 6:43 am
Great hook. Clever story. I enjoyed it.
June 19th, 2008 at 7:06 am
Ah, but your invention is wonderful. To turn the commonplace into the exotic is worth extra stars.
June 19th, 2008 at 7:46 am
Nice story, Kevin. I quite enjoyed the flip-flop in the narration–it clearly demonstrates a basic dichotomy of human mentality.
But I think Timmel should have used the age-old, tried-and-true postal man disposal method: a dog.
June 19th, 2008 at 7:48 am
I liked them, myself. The third section was a bit clunky though. This is a story that would benefit from being written in longer form, IMO. I loved the basic premise.
June 19th, 2008 at 8:08 am
We appreciate your thoughts, Gerard. Your honest appraisal of some stories makes your occasonal praise all the sweeter.
June 19th, 2008 at 9:48 am
A definite five from me - really enjoyed this, Kevin.
June 19th, 2008 at 9:56 am
Gerard, you certainly have a soul. I’m surprised it took me this long to roll your eyes. Of course it would be more simple to post spaceship plans on the internet. Have you ever met a government that does things simply?
This story is about, among other things, bureaucracy.
As always, thanks for the comment. Glad to get a mini-story for my morning comment crawl, too.
June 19th, 2008 at 10:01 am
Thanks to all of you for your comments. It’s interesting that some like and some don’t like the POV switching. When I started writing this as a flash piece, I thought I’d see if switching back and forth would work. I guess it does. And it doesn’t.
It definitely wasn’t easy. Or copping out. I could have certainly written it all from one POV much more easily.
It was a bit of an experiment.
I’m glad for the comments, all of them. Thanks for reading!
June 19th, 2008 at 11:25 am
Hi Kevin,
Great stuff and a quite fantastic read.I thought the POV changes really added to this story.
Cheers
Mark
June 19th, 2008 at 12:03 pm
Kevin,
As ususal, a good read. I like POV changes–and they’re damned difficult in a flash format. But this story works for me. A dog was a good alternative–as well as showing up at the post office with an AK-47.
–dj
June 19th, 2008 at 12:38 pm
I liked the POV changes - made you think about what’s going on. However, if this is what’s REALLY going on out there, humanity is well and truly screwed…
June 19th, 2008 at 1:07 pm
This summer I’m relying more on the Post Office than I have in years. Long story. All I know is that if the mailman was stealing my money from the future I’d whup his ass - he’d be lucky if he only started his retirement with two broken legs!
June 19th, 2008 at 2:01 pm
Damn kevin you are a MACHINE. How the hell do you come up with whacky ideas like these and keep churning them out?
June 19th, 2008 at 3:57 pm
Thanks, everyone.
A dog would have been a nice touch–it never crossed my mind. I truly hope this isn’t what’s REALLY going on. I hope Jim’s mail carrier is on the straight and narrow. M, I don’t know.
June 19th, 2008 at 6:43 pm
I love it Kevin and I say BRAVO for taking a chance on doing something different. The viewpoint changes I thought were interesting and added a little kick for me. Made it different. And it seems to be prevalent in short stories and novels, why NOT try it?
And yes, the world is a confusing place for us writers.
It’s like what happens on American Idol. One week Randy might tell a singer, “You sang it just like Mariah! You’ve gotta make it your own, dog.” Paula: “You look stunning tonight Kevin.” Simon: “You wrote that like you have no concept of who you are. Be original. Be yourself.”
Then the next week Randy might say: “Check it out, dog. You messed with a classic, man. Never screw around with a classic.” Paula: “Not good. I love you, but you weren’t in your range. Still, I like your whiz hair cut tonight.” Simon: “Disaster. I agree with Randy. You just ruined a good song.”
By the way, none of those comments apply to you! Just an example of how confusing it is to be a writer when people are judging what you do.
So Kevin, keep on doing what you do.
Gay: Great concept, good follow through, a little pitchy toward the end, but you nailed that last note. And you know, that’s what I like about you, you are out there, trying new stuff, keep it up. YOU are an original…”
And remember, in the paraphrased words of William Goldman “No one knows nuthing!”
June 19th, 2008 at 6:46 pm
Why don’t I learn to proofread?
Instead of Simon saying:
“You wrote that like you have no concept of who you are. Be original. Be yourself.”
It should be “You sang that like…”
Okay no more lengthy comments that I can’t delete!!
June 22nd, 2008 at 6:59 pm
Well, I might be a little biased of this story, being Kevin’s older sister, but I thought the premise was riveting…pulled me right in, and had me by the second paragraph!!! Not bad at all! Good job Kev—you’ve always gone against the grain anyway, just keep on doing what yoou’re obviously doing very well!
Oh, and P.S., no one needs to know my age, thanks.
June 24th, 2008 at 10:08 am
This was the first story I read on EDF (I’m a newbie!), and I still think it outstrips a great deal of other flash fiction I have read on here. It is clever and original without being overly hammy. This story is what has me coming back for more - not to mention telling others about this site. I look forward to reading more of your work, Kevin, as well as everyone else’s who submits to this cool website.
June 25th, 2008 at 9:22 am
Wow, Teresa, this has to be one of the best comments (and compliments) I’ve received. Thank you so much! There is A LOT of good writing here at EDF. I’m sure you’ll find several favorites.
Thanks again, I truly appreciate it.