Before I was whisked away in the middle of the night to a strange and intense training camp for super powered losers (Not kidding that’s how it happened) I was going to talk about the mystery package I received just before Halloween.
No time like the present I guess.
I arrive home after a normal days work and there it is. A big box with a ribbon around it.
At first I thought it might be a gift from an ex as an apology, or perhaps some secret admirer who wants to whisk me away to a private island in the sun and romance me and buy my pretty things and we get married and I never have to think about spies or guns or making coffee of filing ever again.
Wow that thought went longer than I intended. (Sigh)
I found a small card slid under the ribbon. (Perhaps it was some love note, poem or profuse apology for treating me like rubbish) What should I find instead but a handwritten note saying only this. "Friday." (Bugger doesn't really cover it now does it?)
After staring at the box for many hours, then listening for any noises (ticking?) I tried poking it a couple of times and running away. Then I tried kicking it and doing the same... I finally opened it and pulled away layers of delicate packing paper to find a pair of goggles, which of course I recognized immediately as they were startlingly similar to the ones sitting in Stanley's office.
I examined them and they seemed fairly unremarkable (well apart from the fact that they too let me see when I'm invisible) and as I was looking them over something else inside the box caught my eye. There was a dark shape further down in the box under more paper.
I pulled away the paper and reached in (still a little distracted and confused by the goggles) and pulled out something that was cold to the touch, heavy and metal and then I looked to see what I already instinctively knew (I inventory them enough to know what they feel like)
I was holding a gun.
I dropped it and ran out of the room. Went to the bathroom and tried not to have a panic attack.
After a long time I went back to the box and picked up the gun, wrapping it in all the packing paper (cause we all know if I can't see it... it doesn't exist, right?) and remembered my sister's safe, the one she bought to put her (insanely expensive) wedding dress in. I opened it. (She doesn't know I know the combination, but the anniversary of when they met is just too easy, she really is a bit obvious sometimes) and put the gun inside.
Oddly enough, wrapped in all that crinkly white paper it looked disturbingly at home next to the white gown.
So there sits the gun, a present from the prick and a symbol of my terrible judgement, in a safe, at the bottom of my closet, nestled gently next to my sisters wedding dress.
Bugger.
