By:  Herb McPherson

Mailman's Log #86

I, like most of you, am a fan of free products.

I have been known to stop by my local grocery store for hours at a time and gorge myself on free samples.  These tasty treats dance happily in my ever-growing stomach, and this joyous privilege is all free-of-charge.  This pastime of mine is clearly the closest to heaven one can get.  Sure, there are many times I've been kicked out, but I'm sure the workers admire my resilience.  They never really give my a problem, except for one employee that has decided to rain on my parade.  This worker insists on making my life a living hell.

One cold, gray Saturday afternoon, I felt the need to browse for free items yet again.   I thought this activity would be allowed, considering that the products are FREE.   Oh, did I think wrong!  As my thick fingers lovingly caressed some of my favorite free samples, I noticed a disgruntled employee in a Mr. Peanut costume watching me with contempt.  He stood by his table of free nut products as if he were guarding them from me.  I decided to fight for my rights and take some of those peanuts.   After all, was I not entitled to them?

I marched right over to that smug little peanut man and took a packet for myself.  If I could see his eyes under that costume, I'd know he was narrowing them at me.  But now I can only assume.  As I tried to walk away with my loot, a surprisingly strong Mr. Peanut grabbed me by the shoulder, spun me around, and took my peanuts!   "You bastard!", I would have cried had he not punched me in the gut.

He placed my peanuts back on the table as I lunged at him.  We were locked like lovers, rolling and punching and kicking.  But instead of love, I delivered pain.   I swore and bit that peanut until I was woozy.  A single punch from that dastardly gloved hand nearly knocked me out.  A security guard rushed over and pulled us apart.  He then dragged me out of the store and dropped me on the sidewalk.   Why must I suffer so for something I love?

As I sit here writing this, my anger continues to increase.  Those were MY peanuts!   Only a Communist would take them from me.  I must fight for my country.   I must fight for my honor.  I must fight for my peanuts.  I shall return and tell you of my glory after I have given Mr. Peanut the beating he so deliciously deserves.

* * *

McPherson, Herbert
June 14th, 1949 - August 17th, 2001
Beloved son of Sheila and Alan McPherson

Cause of Death:  Beating from a salted nut product
Services will be held in his backyard.