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Jokers Are Wild
By Loren Moore
I went out to my mail box the other day to see if I had any mail. When I opened the lid I saw a package about eight inches square and five inches thick and a bunch of bills and advertisements. I took all of it back into the house and laid it on my desk. I went through the advertisements and threw them in the trash bucket. I looked at the bills and laid them aside for now. Then I turned my attention to the package.
Now who would be sending me a package, I wondered? I wasn't expecting anything. I looked at the return address and it said, "Moore, 2904 Nacelle, Arlington, TX 76010." Hey wait a minute that's me and I didn't send me a package. I'm beginning to get that deja vu feeling. The address label was home made out of a piece of notebook paper, and the address was hand printed. "Mr. Loren Moore; 2904 Nacelle; Arlington, TX 76010" I looked at the postage strip and it told me the package had been mailed in Chandler, Texas.
I took out my pocketknife and cut the tape and paper on one end so I could slide the box out of the wrapping. When I opened the box it was full of bubble wrap. I took out the bubble wrap and started unwrapping it. When I got down to the item that was wrapped up in all the bubble wrap I saw it was Ö it was a, (gasp!) a bar of lifebuoy soap! There was a note on top of the bar of soap that said, "Hi, here is another old friend of yours. Enjoy the visit"
Well, after I got over the initial shock, I thought Iíve got to find out who sent this package, so I hired the services of a private detective. I told her (yes it was a her) to find out who had mailed me this package from Chandler. I know she tried but after a week she had nothing to report, so I decided to try something myself. I was going to be sneaky about it, and I emailed everyone in my email address book a question. That question was, "Someone that lives in or near Chandler, Texas, tell me where the post office is."
This is Lorenís wife Johnnie. Loren asked me to finish typing this story for him.
First let me give you a little background so you can understand the story. Sometime ago he wrote a story about losing a friend. That story was "Lifebuoy." Then he wrote another story titled "The Other Shoe." Now he is writing a story titled "Jokers Are Wild."
Well that's not exactly true. I mean it's his story, but he is not writing it. He is dictating it to me and Iím writing it down in a spiral notebook. Then Iím supposed to type it into the computer and post it for him.
Does that sound strange? Let me tell you why it has to be done this way. You see after Loren sent that email to everyone in his address book (you know the one that said, "Someone that lives in or near Chandler, Texas, tell me where the post office is), he would get up each morning and run to the computer to check his email to see if anyone had answered him.
It got to the point that he wouldn't leave his computer long enough to eat something. Eventually it got so bad he wouldn't go to bed at night. I really began to worry about him. One morning when I got out of bed I went into the office to check on him and he was sitting in front of the computer with his thumb in his mouth. He had a glazed look to his eyes. He was in a catatonic stupor and sucking his thumb. That's when I called an ambulance and had him taken to this "special hospital."
He's been here two weeks now and he is better, but they still won't let him have anything with a sharp edge or point on it. (But his shock treatments are over.) That's why he can't have a pencil and he has to dictate this story to me. He tells me if someone should answer his inquiry about the post office in Chandler to tell them, "Thank you." When he gets out of the hospital he is going to Ö but no, that's a whole nother story for a different time.
Man, did I just say that? That sounds just like Loren. Maybe Iíve lived too long with this man. We've been married 51 years now. After that long of a time I guess some of the other one rubs off on you without you knowing it.
[© Copyright 2003]
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