An Unexpected Delivery

I glance out of my front window to see a drone rising from my steps and darting into the early morning sky. As I open the front door, I’m greeted by a plain cardboard box, neatly and securely taped. There’s no return address listed on the label, nor is mine or my wife’s name on it, just our home address. I don’t remember ordering anything lately, no overnight delivery, no late night drunken Amazoning, absolutely nothing. Perhaps my wife did from… somewhere?

“Hey Flo” I call out. “Did you order something?”

“No, why?” she answers.

“We got a drone delivery, but no return address on the box.”

“Who is it from?” she queries.

I covertly threw my hands out as to say, “how the hell should I know”, but I wasn’t that slick. She saw it and now I can feel her gaze burning a hole in the back of my head. I decided to reach down to pick the box up and find out it had a little weight behind it; maybe 10 pounds. I place it back down and take a step back. I begin to wonder what could be in this mystery box. Seeing an opportunity for some 90’s nostalgia I point at the box.

“WHAT’S IN THE BOX??!!” I exclaim loud enough for my neighbors to hear, should they be listening.

“Jesus you’re an idiot.” My wife says from behind me. “Maybe somebody sent a gift.”

“Yeah, but who?” I respond.

She replies by mimicking my earlier hand gesture to her question, but maybe she’s right. Perhaps someone sent us an early Christmas gift. Maybe we won something. What if it’s something we signed up for automatic delivery with? At that moment, my brain goes into overdrive and starts concocting dark scenarios as to who the sender could possibly be.

“You know the Unabomber mailed bombs to kill his victims. What if this is a copycat?” I say in a know-it-all tone.

“Yeah, and they were all important people and you’re you. Sorry, my love.” She responds with a grin.

In my mind I say, ‘sick burn!’, but my ego is now more bruised than a banana that was stuck in a backpack all day; so I make a face and sulk on. Still, my question remains: who the hell sent this and what’s in it? Why is there no return address on this? Isn’t that strange? Why would it ship that way? Was the drone even from a delivery service? Before I can think about it anymore, my wife chimes in.

“Remember a few years ago people were getting those weird packages in the mail from China that had seeds in them?”

“I do remember that, as a matter of fact. The government did end up saying those seeds didn’t pose a risk, but what if that was just a dry run? What if this is the next wave? What if this is dead, diseased wildlife packaged and sent here from an enemy country trying to destabilize the US? This could be a prelude to WWIII. Have you thought about that?” I ask, totally serious about my questions.

“Oh my God I can’t believe I married you, and your coffee is getting cold.” My wife says as she walks away from the front door and goes into the kitchen to sit at the breakfast table.

Maybe she’s right, maybe I’m over thinking this. I mean, no one is trying to assassinate me. I don’t think China is sending me dead, diseased animals. What if this is just a gift? I made up my mind that this is totally absurd and I’m being crazy. I’m just going to open this damn box up. I knelt and put my finger on top of the box. With a little pressure, my finger goes through the pilfer tape and touches paper. The feeling of touching something in the box startles me. I gasp and quickly jerk my finger out of the box like something had just bitten it. This is insanity, it’s just a box with something in it. But why is it heavy? A human head does weighs around 11 pounds, what if this was some serial killer sending mementos? Why would they send it to me? What if I’m marked as the next victim?

“I’m gonna open it” I mumble to myself in my best Morgan Freeman voice, still clinging to that 90’s nostalgia.

At that moment I noticed my heart was racing. The thought of opening this box is scaring me to death. If putting my finger in it caused this reaction, I can’t begin to fathom what I’m going to do when I find out what actually lies in wait. My palms begin to sweat, my throat starts closing, and my breathing is heavy; and my hand hasn’t even reached the box yet. I bring my hand back up and make a fist as I feel sweat start to slowly trickle down my brow. It’s November and I’m sweating. My anxiety is completely out of control, but I still have no idea what is in the goddamn box. I try to regain my composure and begin taking deep breaths as my mind races about all of the terrible scenarios opening this box is going to bring upon me. Death. Doom. Despair. Disease. Famine. Paper cuts. Name it, I’m officially screwed. I’m going to get it all.

I close my eyes and slowly reach out. As my hand grazes the top of the box, my wife yells from the kitchen.

“Jesus, are you still opening it?”

Startled, I open my eyes and throw angry punches in the air. I was literally touching it; I was so close! I take a few deep breaths again and take one big, dry gulp. It’s now or never. I reach down, put my hand through the tape, and pull the flap back. The opening reveals brown packaging paper. I spin the box around and open the second flap with the same result.

“I didn’t blow up.” I mutter with an approving grin.

I remove the paper to see a white, letter sized envelope lying sealed side up on top of more packing paper. ‘This doesn’t weigh 10 pounds.’ I think to myself. I carefully remove the envelope from the inside of the box and inspect it for wires, blood, seeds, animal hair, anything. As I turn the envelope over, I see my name printed on the front. My eyes become as big as goose eggs. I reach down to remove the rest of the paper to find bars packed in a Ziploc bag, giving the package weight. I examine them through the bag and see they are stamped as ‘transit stabilizers’. I get it, so the box wouldn’t be blown off the drone in the event of a wind gust. Now my attention is on the mysterious envelope with my name on it. I turn my head and call out to my wife, who’s watching everything from the kitchen.

“It’s a box of weights and an envelope with my name on it.” I say as I hold the envelope up in the air for her to see.

With concern on her face, my wife puts her hands out as to say ‘stop’.

“Just put the envelope down and call the cops.”

At this point, though, I’m totally committed. I waved to her to go back deeper into the kitchen while I opened the letter, but she instead walked to the door knelt beside me. We look at each other for a silent moment before I slowly rip open the top of the envelope and gently pull out a letter. I gradually unfold the letter and begin to read aloud.

“Dear Sir”.

Nice, they are politely addressing me before probably saying ‘I’m in the house and am about to cut your head off’. I take a deep breath and continue.

“We’ve been trying to…” my hands begin to tremble.

“reach you about your car’s …” my body begins to shake.

“EXTENDED WARRANTY… MOTHERFUCKERS!!!” I scream out into the neighborhood as more drones fly off from the other houses doorsteps.