Free The Interview by Eric Weule Page B

on imaginary numbers and a
convoluted formula that seems to change every day. I think they
borrowed it from the movie studios who use a slightly different
version to figure out how much money they didn't make on their last
blockbuster. It fit right in with Thelma's alien scenario.
    “Wouldn't want to miss the OTDT.”
    “You're a good man, Kelly. Thanks for taking this seriously.
We're in a crunch, you know. Post Office is losing a lot of money. We
all have to do our part.”
    I spread my arms out and said, “I do what I can, Carl.”
    “I know, Kelly. Don't worry about Graciella. She's just trying
to impress the big bosses.”
    Graciella was the current squeeze of the District Manager. Word was,
our current postmaster was on the chopping block and as soon as they
paper trailed her to death, she'd be gone and Graciella would get a
promotion. Graciella needed to impress the big bosses about as much
as Tristan needed a penile enlargement.
    “Got it.”
    Carl waddled away and I went back to work.
    “Kelly,” a voice whispered. I looked at the clock. I had
been at work for fifteen minutes and I hadn't done a thing. Batman
should have shot me. It would have been better that way.
    “Casey,” I whispered back.
    “Is Carl gone?”
    “Yeah.”
    Casey popped around from Route Seven's case. Every time I saw her I
thought of Mother's Cookies. She just looked like she should be on
the bag of Mother's Cookies. Casey was fifty-four. When I first met
her, she was a silent, withdrawn woman who wore sunglasses in the
office to hide the bruises, and flinched anytime a voice was raised
nearby. She's a couple inches over five feet, and if she puts rocks
in her pockets and holds a five-pound bag she might weigh 98 pounds.
Five years ago, her husband vanished. Just up and left without a word
to anyone. Mysterious.
    In two years she can declare him legally dead. I don't think she's
worried about him popping back up. I think she knows exactly where he
is.
    The change since his sudden departure has been dramatic, to say the
least. She never wears sunglasses. She smiles and laughs. Her hair is
bright red, and she has tons of freckles. She is a constant source of
outlandish tales. She's the closest thing I have to a sister.
    “I found a snake in my yard yesterday.”
    “I thought you got that snake repellent stuff.”
    “I did, but I think I sprayed it after the snake was already in
my yard. Now it won't leave.”
    “What kind of snake was it?”
    “A big one.”
    Casey knew snakes like I knew guns. “What did you do?”
    “I screamed.”
    “Naturally. But after that.”
    “I called Animal Control. They wanted a hundred bucks to come
get it.”
    “Did you pay them?”
    “No. I'm not paying them a hundred dollars.”
    “Does seem kind of ridiculous.”
    “That's what I thought. So I walked over to the Fire Department
and asked them if they could come get it.”
    “Reasonable. Fire fighters are good guys.”
    “They wouldn't help me.”
    “Bastards.”
    “I know, I thought the same thing.”
    “So what did you do?”
    “My mom called when I was walking back and told me that my
sister barricaded herself inside the house and was threatening to not
eat.” Casey's sister weighs three times as much as Casey. She
could stand not to eat. “I had to go try and talk her out. By
the time I got home it was dark. So he's still out there.”
    “Did you get your sister to eat?”
    “Yeah, I found a window that was unlocked and I climbed in. She
was parked on the couch with a box of Twinkies and an empty Domino’s
box, watching Wipeout. I bitched her out. She said she was sorry but
no one comes and sees her. Drama.”
    “So what are you going to do about the snake?”
    “I don't know. I was hoping you had an idea.”
    “You could shoot it.”
    “I don't have a gun.”
    Huh. I know someone with a gun.
    “Let me think on it. I'll call you later.”
    “Thanks.” She glanced at the clock. “I'm going on
break. Talk to you