A Mail Delivery in Strange Times

Things have been pretty weird lately.

Last week in Toronto, a guy opened fire in the Eaton Centre (a large, downtown mall) killing one person and injuring seven. The other night, some other gangster dude was running about the city Tweeting to police about the various things he was going to do with a machine gun.

And of course, this isn’t even including the zombies.

Turned on by bath salts or something, they seem to be staggering all over the place, either chewing the face off of a person or ripping their still beating heart from their chest. And then just to ratchet up the I’m-Living-In-A-Horror-Movie feeling, the murderous psychopath Luka Magnotta exploded into the news, mailing parts of his defiled lover all over the place.

It’s enough to make you jumpy.

Apocalyptic jumpy.

This morning  I was awoken into the end times by the front buzzer and the demonic screeching of our dog.  When the buzzer goes off all the fur on her back spikes and she explodes into an angry shriek of barking. I really, really hate that. It’s like having a small, disobedient bomb going off in perpetuity right beside your ankle. It makes me anxious.

At the door stood a strange looking man holding a package.

I wasn’t expecting a package.

The guy didn’t look like a delivery guy, either, he looked  like one of the guys that collect’s bottles from our recycling box.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Are you Michael Murray?

Me: Yes. What’s this?

Suspicious Looking Guy: It’s a package for you.

Me: I’m not expecting a package.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Well, maybe this is your lucky day and you’re getting a nice surprise!

Me: Or maybe it’s a partial rib cage.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Could you just sign here, please?

Me: You don’t look like a delivery guy.

Suspicious Looking Guy: I’m a freelance courier, and anyway, what do I look like to you?

Me: Like somebody who might know a murderer who liked to send body parts through the mail.

Suspicious Looking Guy: You’ve been reading about the Luka Magnotti case, haven’t you?

Me: So you know him?

Suspicious Looking Guy: (Laughing) No, of course not. What do you think you’re getting Gwyneth Paltrow’s head as a gift or something?

Me: I’m just a little disoriented and edgy right now. Your arrival just woke me up from a creepy dream.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Would it comfort you if I watched you open your package?

Me: I don’t think so, but okay.

And so we both sat down on our sofa and he watched as I opened the box, which was a care package sent from my mother containing vitamins, soap, an article cut from a newspaper on somebody I went to high school with, and a squeak toy for Heidi, our dog.

Suspicious Looking Guy: Do you feel better?

Me: This is really starting off to be a weird day, you know?

Suspicious Looking Guy: Yes, yes I do know.

And then he saluted, shook his head and walked out of our apartment.