Sasquatch stands inside the lobby of the Pine City Post Office with a confused look on his face. “Can I help you with something?” Says the woman behind the counter without lifting her eyes from her book. Sasquatch walks up to the counter and sets down a small white scrap of paper in front of her. He crosses his arms. The clerk sighs, sets down her book, and picks it up. She turns it over and over in her hands, squinting and scrunching up her nose. The words “TOO MOM” are penciled on the front in large block lettering. A small stick figure of a what appears to be sasquatch with long hair has been scrawled hastily underneath.
Sasquatch stands inside the lobby of the Pine City Post Office with a confused look on his face. “Can I help you with something?” Says the woman behind the counter without lifting her eyes from her book. Sasquatch walks up to the counter and sets down a small white scrap of paper in front of her. He crosses his arms. The clerk sighs, sets down her book, and picks it up. She turns it over and over in her hands, squinting and scrunching up her nose. The words “TOO MOM” are penciled on the front in large block lettering. A small stick figure of a what appears to be sasquatch with long hair has been scrawled hastily underneath.
“I don’t know what this is” The clerk frowns, shaking her hear. “I don’t know what you want me to do with this.” Sasquatch points to the napkin, and then gestures to a poster showing a post office drop box. “Oh. You want to SEND this to someone?” she asks. Sasquatch nods eagerly. He clicks his claws on the countertop and grins. The woman shifts on her stool, grimacing. “I can’t accept loose scraps.” She says, handing the paper back to him, “You can’t just mail a thing like this through the US Postal service. Around here, we have standards.” Sasquatch furrows his brow and leans in close, pushing the note into her face and pointing to the word “MOM”.
“Get off me!” She shouts, struggling to push him away. “Don’t SHOVE things in my face!” She snatches the note from his hand and quickly crumples it up, tossing it into a nearby trash bin. Sasquatch stands motionless, his mouth agape. “There.” She says, “There, are you happy now?” Suddenly sasquatch howls and slams a huge paw down on the counter, sending the clerk tumbling backwards off her stool. “Help Help!” the clerk cries, covering her head with her hands, “Fire! Rape!” “Call the police!” one customers yells. “Call the postmaster general!” shouts another. “I have mace” an old woman offers helpfully, rummaging through her purse.
Sasquatch’s beady eyes dart around the room. He snorts and huffs and runs his claws nervously through his beautiful sasquatch mane. Finally he turns and begins to make his way to the exit, pushing through the large crowd which has gathered behind him. “Somebody stop him!” a customer shouts, leaping out of the way. “Hmm…” says an off-duty policeman, pulling his shirt over his holster and pretending to inspect a rack of commemorative shipping labels. “Found it!” cries the old woman, hoisting the canister of mace triumphantly above her head. It slips from her grasp and bursts open on the floor. The room begins to fill with noxious fumes. “Oh dear.” she says, hastily zipping her purse. Sasquatch continues towards the door, his head high above the spreading cloud. Below him the customers cough and gasp for air, their eyes swelling shut. One small man with a pencilthin mustache drops to the floor, writhing and sobbing. A small shriveled woman cradling a plastic baby doll moans gently.
Sasquatch makes it through the crowd and strides out into the street. Customers pile out after him, sputtering and choking and rubbing the tears from their eyes. Off in the distance there is the wail of approaching sirens. He grimaces, displaying a line of ragged fangs. Behind him the man with the pencilthin mustache collapses to his knees on the sidewalk, spitting and cursing. The shrunken woman swings her plastic doll wildly by the leg and babbles hysterically. “My baby!” she screams, “Look what he’s done to my baby!” Sasquatch jogs into the lot without looking back and climbs into his compact car. He back out, driving past the angry crowd with his hand to the side of his head, covering his face.
As he pulls away from the Pine City Post Office, Sasquatch imagines the disappointment his mother will feel upon not receiving a birthday card from her only son. He presses hard on the gas pedal. He promises himself he will not cry.