I was about to doze off contrary to the advice of Doc Herbert, my sweet, old friend.  The medicine he makes up for me his very own self is my necessary evil, controlling my frequent episodes. The condition has been with me for years. But Doc Herbert knows me and I know he has only my best interests at heart, because he takes care of me so well and he keeps from me the knowledge of what I do and say in the dark times. And today had been an especially exhausting day.  So right after dinner, I snuggled in with my bottle of icky-sticky blue medicine, my recently purchased copy of the latest Dean Koontz novel, and the peace and quiet of a September night in our isolated bunker.

With a sweet sip of the good stuff, page one.  I didn't even get to the first word, when the Westminster chimes of my well-priced doorbell rang. 

"Doc Herb, is that you? Did you find what was making that sound, cos I ain’t opening the door unless you say you found it and killed it. Doc?" 

I went to the door and found nobody there, only a package wrapped in brown paper waiting for me to adopt it as something new of mine.

I have this thing about packages ... I just have to open them ... and when I opened this one, my life did take its turn.

I think now I should have waited for the Doc to get back, but my fingers were all itchy-twitchy and they would have opened it without my say so. I set it down on his desk and turned on the lamp, bit the string because the Doc won’t let me have knives, and there it was; the story of Me!

Yep that’s right, yours truly, all wrapped up in a glossy red dust-cover with big gold letters. There was a picture of me on the front, looking like the pitiful freak that I am. Well, what can I say? I read it, and I got a little tense. Wouldn’t you? On the fly leaf there was a picture of the Doc and I’m ashamed to say I got a little bit more tense, because I ripped it out and stamped all over it. The things he said in that book – you would not credit it. By the time the Doc appeared I was that mad the red mist came down and I have no idea what happened next, except that when I came down from the ceiling there was not a trace of him left. I guess I must have eaten him, bones and boots and all.

It’s a little lonely now though. I’m working on that. Someday I’ll get my disguise right and then I’ll re-enter society. I’ve been reading books about it and everything.

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Here's a challenger. The Package is the same short, short story over and over. Same intro ... more or less, including but changing the underlined items ... and then telling the tale of what you find in the package ...

Any takers ...

rt

updated Sep 25, 2008 by TheRiverTalker