As I wasn’t home today, a courier/delivery service could not satisfactorily complete their end of the bargain and have thus left a consignment for me to be picked up from my local Post Office sometime over the next few days.
Seeing as it isn’t my birthday, and I’ve not ordered anything recently, I have no idea what the hell it could be: I did ring the Delivery Service wih the necessary consignment number and they’ve informed me that the ‘parcel’ weighs six kilograms, so it sure isn’t just a debt-collectors letter, or a special invitation from the local car-dealership to attend a VIP opening or summat. Oh, and it’s come from or via some company in Sydney which, upon googling, didn’t really enlighten me as to the nature of their mercantile activity…except they organise deliveries I guess, and then pass them on to the local Express fellas.
OK, Dopers, get yer’ thinking caps on! What’s in the box??
I know! You’re about to find out why something that “has claws” and “comes in an envelope” is a (presumably severed) human head according to the 20 questions game.
There was an incident in Prince George’s county where the police delivered a box of marijuana to a family and when the accepted it, they tried to arrest the family for being drug dealers (shot their dogs, too). Could be some primo weed.
Now THAT would be a package worth picking up! Six kg of weed would be more than a boxful though I’d imagine…not that I know anything about all of that stuff of course.
Well. The visit to the Post Office proved to be quite anticlimactic really. The parcel does not weigh 6kg as promised by the despatch chick, rather it’s more like 600gm, a vast difference.
Anyway, it’s a freakin’ teddy bear, a ‘gift’ from the company I work for who are apparently ever so impressed by my amazing charitable fundraising abilities.
What the hell does an old broad like me want with a teddy bear? I think I’ll donate it to the local hospital children’s ward actually.
