…or Don’t Touch That, You Don’t Know Where It’s Been
Well my package of photos finally arrived one day after their estimated arrival date. A few years ago I would have thought that was just normal time spent processing and travelling. Now, thanks to the wonders of tracking I can see that the processing happened the same day I ordered the stuff (Nov 25). The rest was travel. And what a roundabout route it took.
So I sat my little package down and asked for an explanation. Here’s what it told me.
“Well it was kind of exciting to be on the road; I’d never been outside of Texas – spent four empty years sitting on a shelf in a warehouse. Now here I was about to see some of the country. I ate peaches and boiled peanuts in Georgia. What’s with boiled peanuts anyway? Slimier’n okra. And then once I saw I was in Florida, well. What could I do? I’ve never been to Disney. That’s where I got this danged crease …..
…sneaking in under the fence. Well after that I thought I’d make my way over to Daytona to see the race-cars but on the way I got in with a bunch of rogue mail in Jacksonville and we all took off for Tampa. There wasn’t too much going on there so when they suggested we head over to Miami for the vice I was in.
I thought they meant the TV show but this was a bad crowd of rogue envelopes and I wasn’t surprised when we got detained by the Miami-Dade polive. When they saw I was a package of photos and that I was was bent I was taken downtown, charged and photographed and sent of to clink.
I ended up in jail in Opa Locka. Y’all probably never knew this but is where all wayward packages end up. Seriously. Google it. Some kind old package that’s been there for fourteen years, a Christmas cake from Noerthern Maine, bailed me out and I hitched a ride on a Fed-ex truck to Jacksonville then Caught an Uber to Gainesville and here I am. I’m pretty battered and bruised but if you’re up for it I’d sure like to get out and see those manatees. But can you unload me first? I’ve carried this burden long enough”
I can only believe what I’m told. After all every little thing has its story.
© Judy Parsons 2019