A knock came at my door shortly after nine in the morning. I looked out the window from my upstairs room. Delivery truck in the driveway. Hmm? I didn't order anything?
I was just getting ready to hop in the shower after a long shift at work and didn't want to run downstairs to answer the door. Maybe they would go away thinking I was not at home, or they would leave whatever it was they were delivering, at the door.
I was ready for a long hot shower, a shave, and a few hours of sleep. I had just come off a twenty-four hour shift at the firehouse. We didn't have a single call until three o'clock in the morning. Nothing good happens at 3am, and this was no exception. Some called it the 'bewitching hour', or 'the devils hour' because it seemed that bad things happened at three in the morning. Last night was certainly no different.
Some call it 'tragedy', I call it 'job security'.
It seemed that stupid people came alive at that hour and I usually met them when they've gone and wrapped their car around a telephone pole or rolled off a cliff. Those people who drink and drive? Those are the one's I call, "Stuck on Stupid."
This morning however, we had a fire, a semi-tractor-trailer hauling some hay, over heated its brakes. Hay fires really stunk, cotton bails, manure and hay...they just stunk and I stunk. Who ever the person was at the door, man or woman, didn't need to get a whiff of me right now. No, they could just come back later.
"BAM, BAM, BAM."
I live in a small town, where everyone knows everyone...and usually everyone's business. Ours was a town where you could leave doors and windows unlocked. In fact, I can't recall the last time I locked my doors for anything. Even during two week hunting trip to Alaska, I left the house open. The neighborhood kids liked to come over and play 'X-Box', (I'm the reigning 'Halo2' leader in town,) and they felt that while I was gone, they could hone there skills.
They're parents would also come over and either chat, borrow, or just veg out and talk. My house, or home, has swinging doors. My refrigerator always stocked. My satellite TV paid up. I trusted my neighbors and they trusted me.
The annoying person knocked again. My eye's rolled to the back of my head in frustration.
"Come on in,...I'm in the shower." I yelled downstairs.
I had just stepped into the shower, not completely wet yet.
"BAM, BAM, BAM!"
This time there was some urgency to the knocking. "Argh!"
Stepping out of the shower, I put on a rob and went downstairs. What in the world does this person want?
As I neared the door, I began to wonder if it was some emergency. It wasn't uncommon for a friendly neighbor to pay a visit for some reason or another to ask for a Band-Aid rather than call 9-1-1. I usually had a large first-aid kit on hand for that very reason. If it was more serious, then I could at least stabilize the person and then call 9-1-1.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
"Scrud, chill out a minute...I'm coming!"
As I came down the spiral stairs I looked out the window. A white delivery truck had parked out front. I knew the delivery lady for years. She was my High School math teacher. Mrs. Jones. She had a way about her that reminded me of the dark ages. If I got a math problem wrong, I would often get a rap on the head with a wooden ruler. After I came back after twenty years from working as a firefighter in Phoenix, she had retired and worked as a local delivery driver. Mrs. Jones knew I left the doors open and she never felt like she could just barge in and leave a package unless I signed for it. Too much 'by the book' for my taste. Only this time it didn't sound like Mrs. Jones' knocking. Frail, arthritic hands can't bang like that. Which is what started worrying me...If it was Mrs. Jones...she's in a world of hurt.
"Bam, Bam, Bam!"
"Alright, alright, keep yer' panty hose on" as I neared the door. Suddenly the front door flew open, a young woman handed me a medium sized packed, "Where's the bathroom?" All I could do was point. She looked like she was in pain and I was not about to prolong her agony by asking twenty questions. She darted for the bathroom on the balls of her feet. She must have really needed to go, hence the reason for the insistent pounding on the front door to get in. Heck, if she had known me, she could have walked on in, left the package, taken a Coke from the refrigerator and thus save her any possible embarrassment. I could wait for introductions when she came out.
I went to the kitchen and double tied my robe. I didn't want any stranger catching a glimpse of something and ruin any chance of a friendship occurring.
Grabbing a knife from the drawer, I began opening the package. Thoughts crossed my mind as to what it might contain.
There was nothing that came to my mind that I had ordered and my birthday was in July, not October.
A letter in the box was sealed with a dark red waxy substance. I had seen these old fashioned methods of sealing envelopes from the Victorian age, or earlier part of this country. Those early settlers didn't have peel and seal envelopes to enjoy. Rather, each family had it's signature crest in which they dripped hot wax to the back of an envelope and then pressing their 'mark' on the wax, showed it was sealed by the sender and unopened while in transition.
I began to wonder at a possible prank that my buddies at the fire house were conjuring up. Every year at Halloween, which is my favorite holiday.
Cracking open the wax, I opened the large envelope.
It was an invitation to 'Castle Frankenstein' for a reading of a "Will".
"Castle Frankenstein?" I started laughing.
My surprise guest soon appeared from the bathroom, a little red in the face, but with a slower, more relaxed gate. "Sorry for rushing in like that, I couldn't hold it any longer and almost had an accident on your front porch."
"No problem," I offered her a Coke. "If you ever need a pit stop, my doors are always open."
"Thanks." Both for the offer and for the drink. "What is that?"
"I think it's a prank my buddies from my old firehouse in Phoenix are trying to pull on me." I removed the box from the package. It was an elaborate box. About the size of a toaster oven. Twelve inches long, six inches high and equal in depth. It had a shiny black leather feel with impeccable metal carvings for the corners, rear hinges and front clasp. There was a small key hole.
"Did this come with a key of some kind?"
"I don't think so, this was the only package that I think I had for you today."
"Hmm, well I guess I won't be able to open it then."
"That's too bad, I was hoping to see what was in the box."
I examined the box on all sides. It would have been easy to crack it open with a hammer and a screwdriver, but after looking at the artwork and skill that went into making such a box, I chose not too.
"Maybe the 'boys' sent the key separately. Halloween is still a while off, maybe they to add to the suspense."
"I hope I am working when it comes. I'm dying of curiosity."
"You know what they say, 'Curiosity killed the cat'.
"Yeah, but satisfaction brought her back."
I looked into her eye's and we locked. I had finally taken time to notice just how beautiful she was. All I caught before was a uniform and a dark head of hair streak past me. Now I saw a slender young lady of about 30. Olive toned skin, high cheekbones, dark brown eyes. Her hair trailed to her hips in a long braid. Her uniform was typical, but sure looked good on her. She stuck out her arm. "I'm sorry, my name is Valeria, you can call me Val." "Valeria...beautiful name for a beautiful lady."
She smiled. "And you are?" She looked at her clip board, "Mr. Love?"
I was becoming mesmerized. "Uh, oh, yes...that's me. Sorry. You can call me Pete." I shook her hand. It was a little cold, but then it was fall and it was a little cold in the house.
"Well, I'll tell you what. If you get anymore packages for me, feel free to come on over and we can open this prank together."
"Are you sure it's a prank?"