Neither Rain, Nor Sleet...

Our mail lady does not like me. We have a communal mail kiosk in our neighborhood and our Postal Serviceperson likes to come at different times of the day, I'm pretty sure just to piss me off. Many times, I'll pull up as she's filling the boxes, and cheerfully ask "Have you done my side?" *smiley smiley smiley don't piss off the postal employee* and she will mumble 'yes' or 'no' without even looking up.

But today, TODAY, bitch looks up at me, removes her sunglasses, rolls her eyes and says "Uhhhh, noooooo. And it's going to be awhile." Normally I only punch people in the neck in my mind, but today I was thisclose to having my first ever real life neck punch. I need my Land's End catalog, people!

"Well, could you just give me my mail? I'm expecting a check today and need to get it in the bank before 2. That's only about 20 minutes from now."

"MA'AM. I am sure you are aware that postal receptacles are GOVERNMENT property, and I am an agent of the UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT. We adhere to STANDARDS AND PROTOCOL from which we are not allowed to deviate!"

I look in the mail bin and I can see my bundle of mail. With my name on it. Right there. I tell her as much and I kind of reach out in a gesturing manner toward the bin.

"MA'AM!" she snatches the bin backward and then slams it on the sidewalk. "Are you aware that tampering with mail is a FEDERAL OFFENSE punishable by possible jail time?" Her face is beet red at this point, and her lips are kind of quivering. I laugh, because she's so ridiculous. I say as much.

"You are being ridiculous. I just asked for my mail." I kind of raise my hands in the widely recognized international symbol for what the fuck and she gets all Oscar de la Hoya on me, bowing up and raising her fists.

"I AM AUTHORIZED TO USE FORCE IF NECESSARY!"

Holy smokes, I am about to throw down with the mail lady!

And then she farted. A big, wet, loud, trumpeter fart. It threw me off mentally, and her first punch caught me unawares - a glancing blow to the chin.

"My GOD! My GOD!" I stammered. "What is wrong with you?" She rared back again but I was anticipating it this time and handily dodged her ham fist. I have watched a fair amount of UFC fights, so I did a leg sweep and proceeded to ground and pound her ass. She was panting and sweating, the seams of her blue polyester postal pants being stretched to their limit as she kicked furiously. I took a orthopedic shoe to the right side of my head, but the thick soles did little damage. Hush Puppies are not known for their usefulness in a brawl.

I hit her with short, brutal jabs, each one punctuated with a USPS reprimand - "INSUFFICIENT ADDRESS!" I yelled. "POSTAGE DUE!" The spittle flew from my lips. And as the flurry of blows slowed, she looked at me, her eyes begging for mercy.

"I'm a government employee." she gasped.

I stood at last at looked down at her, whimpering on the sidewalk, mail strewn about. I could see by the flyer plastered to the side of her face that Harris Teeter had whole chickens on sale for 49 cents a pound this week. I'd have to get by there. Before I walked away, I reached down and picked up my mail. I looked at her with a mixture of pity and disgust and uttered the epithet to our encounter - "Return to sender, bitch."

God. Okay, none of this happened. I have had a really boring week and I don't like the mail lady and I may have fantasies about kicking her ass. This is as close as I'll ever get to actually doing it.