FlogDailyHerald: The psyche of someone in line for a package at JWW

Mail Services BearPackage Arrival Notice! Oh! How exciting! Someone loves me. Maybe it’s a care package from my dear parents. They do care about my well being and general happiness. Maybe it’s a textbook from Amazon to fill my brain with knowledge or a sweater from Urban Outfitters that mom and pop store to keep me warm through the winter. I’m so excited to find out what it is, but I’ll wait until a weird time to pick it up so I can avoid the line. I’m so smart and clever, everyone should want to sleep with me and be my friend.

It’s 1:24. Only a crazy person would pick up a package at such a silly hour in the—HOLY SHIT! What the fuck is this? Is it noon at the Ratty right now? Did someone put a Six Flags roller coaster in JWW? Don’t you all have places to be? Oh, that’s nice, a bake sale; I wish I had a dollar. Oh well, I guess I better get in line.

(Having moved about 4 feet.) This. Is. Death. Yes, I see your cookies. They look delicious, but I did not find a dollar in the 8 minutes since you last asked. Yes, it’s a very nice cause. What’s taking so long? Ugh, it’s that blonde bitch. Oh god she’s one of those who’s SURE her package is here. You need to get the email, you platinum plated piece of—calm down. It’s fine. It’s been like 10 minutes now. You’ve got nothing to do. It’s okay.

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