The Brown Box

A Story by K.O'Brien

A mailman is excited to receive his present, but is shocked when he opens it.

“You won’t believe what came in the mail today.” Mr. Robert, our postman was delighted when he saw the perfectly shaped symmetrical brown covered box addressed to C. Atler, box number three, Lakewood, Washington nine eight four nine nine. I had kept him in suspense for over a month about the contents in the box. It was to be an early birthday/appreciation gift from me.

We have been through a lot over the past fifteen years; from my dogs getting loose and running after him for about a block or two (and he brought them home afterwards), to when a packaged labeled “fragile” came in from my daughter (he waited in the rain to make sure it got into my hands safely). Yes, Mr. Robert, my postman who for fifteen years I’ve shared short moments with by the end of my walkway in front of my mailbox, talking about life or things our wives did to upset us.

“The wait is finally over.” I said, holding the box ever so gently in my hands.

We both stared at it with awe. I knew that the item in the box would simply amaze him and he, well he was waiting to be amazed. I had told him how I saw the item in a magazine and instantly thought of him. How the customer service gave me such a difficult time to customize it to the specific requirements I wanted it to be. I only wanted the best for Mr. Robert. The right style, the right size, the right color. Everything had to be perfect. He in my opinion is such an exceptional guy who is under appreciated and I wanted to show him some appreciation.

I taunted him for a little bit extending the package to his outstretched arms and then quickly retracting it when he reached for it. But I finally gave in; I wanted him to see the gift and wanted to see his expression on his face. I knew it would be priceless. With one quick motion he tore off the layer of brown wrapper and fiercely peeled the tape off of the opening of the box. Before he opened it however, he took a nice long breath prolonging the anticipation further.

“Just open it man.” I said with impatience.

“On the count of three.” He said. “One, Two, Three!”

There, dead center of the box lay a pair of size four, lacey red panties. I didn’t know what to say. I was completely dumbfounded and engulfed with embarrassment that I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. In what felt like a freeze in time with only us having the ability to aware of the world, Mr. Robert, with a look of confusion that I will never forget, looked up at me and with an eagerness for an answer that would save both of us a lot of future awkward encounters, asked “Is there by any chance your wife’s name start with a C?”