The Christmas Card

A Story by stratzzt

A short story based off of an English Class writing prompt on which i expanded. subtle underlying theme of importance of family over other things?

It was almost Christmas, and I had nearly forgotten to send a card to my grandparents in New York. They’re both in their nineties; I’d feel miserable if something was to happen to them and my last memory of them is my negligence of their existence on the most family oriented day of the year.

In haste, I scurried to the Post Office on Main Street, possible the biggest building in this enormous Californian town. This building looked awfully strange as a matter of fact, as if it’d been built ages ago, but the city had only gotten around to remodeling half of it. It was also one of those buildings that looked much bigger on the outside than it does on the inside. I never thought much of it though, until that day, when I was rushing to send my happy holiday’s wishes to my grandma and grandpa.

As I made my way to the six-door, glass-paneled front entry, two men stopped me in my tracks, both about 6’2”, in classic white and black suits, but white shoes, dark hair, and dark sunglasses. The one on the left reached into his front break pocket. I shuttered with panic, I thought for sure he was pulling out a gun. Instead, he pulled out a badge, at least that’s what I thought it was. He flashed it at me so quickly I was unable to decipher the acronym on the front. The second man reached into his breast pocket at this point as well. Now not as frightened, yet still confused, I watched him pull out a slip of paper. I cautiously took it as he handed it to me and read it:

“Top Secret Mission. We Need You. No Details. Go to the front desk, ask for Bert, and ask him the following: ‘My stamps are looking rather square today, in you know what I mean.’”

I stared in confusion at the letter, but when I looked up from reading it, the men were gone. I turned around to hear the Cadillac peel out of the Post Office parking lot, leaving behind the smell of burnt rubber, and not to mention a confused 19 year old kid.

I walked inside, and asked for Bert. “Who?” the clerk asked me. I hesitated for a second, but realized it was simply a ploy. Again, “May I speak to Bert?” “So they finally found someone” she said to me. An older, frail looking man approached the counter. “Can I help you sir?” I thought of what to say. “My stamps are looking rather square today, if you know what I mean.”

Bert and I exchanged glances once more until he turned away into the back room. I heard whispering, but I was unable to understand exactly what was said. Bert came out to the front desk; he looked around to make sure there was nobody else in the lobby then looked me in the eyes.

“Are you him?”

“What??” I asked.

Bert hesitated once again, as if he was unable to perceive my potential loyalty and trust. I felt him examine my mind, and after a minute, “Are. You. Him?”

“Y-Yes. I suppose s-so” I fumbled.

After another long pause, Bert turned around and started walking. After about two steps, he stopped and turned back to me. “Well are you coming?”

At this moment I was befuddled to say the least. I did a little 10 foot jog to catch up with him, and we continued walking, silent for a good 2 minutes. We walked through the mail sorting room, through the office areas, and into the garbage room. It looked like a normal trash room to me, but Bert knew its secret. Behind the second dumpster from the left on the east wall was a lever. When switched on, that same dumpster was tilted forward, to reveal a passage in the wall behind it about two feet wide. After a second to think, I followed Bert into this dimply lit, passage. The walls had a tint of lime green, and the floor a bit of a darker shade of it. The hallway looked endless, so I finally asked, “Where are we going and what’s going on?” Bert looked at me as if I just had spoken in a foreign language.

“They didn’t tell you?”

As I was about to answer his question Bert made an abrupt right into another passage way, this one a bit more wide .

“No, they said no details.”

“Well, we need you for a se-“

“Who is ‘we’ and why am I so special?!” just as I said this, we made a left into a room. A huge room full of gadgets and gizmos; this place was a tech junky’s dream land. Fast and fancy cars, super computers, gaming systems, and more, It was like the ultimate man pad, only professionally constructed.

Bert turned to me. “We need you. Over your life, you have acquired a certain set of skills that pertain to the specifics of the task that we must impend upon you.”

“Wh-What?” At that, I received a condescending glance, a disappointing look to tell me I may not be all I was made out to be.

“I hope you enjoy your new home, may it serve you well in your doings.”

Before I knew it, Bert had left, but I was too intrigued to follow him out. Instead I explored this awe-inspiring place. I found my way to the mother computer. As I approached it, the screen illuminated a bright blue, and a bold white message appeared:

(3) PENDING MISSIONS...

I relaxed, and sat down in the comfortable to think about what was going on. I had been given this new work station, and these new missions which must be rather important, otherwise they would not have been so secret. At that moment, I shoved my hand in my pocket and realized I had still not mailed my grandparents Christmas card. Darting through the dank halls to make my way to the mail room, I mumbled to myself, “Make that four...”