The Geek and the Plymouth Postman

I’m a twig of a man and I’ve the nature of a cotton-candy-eating tadpole, which I’m not ashamed of, most of the time. Sometimes it gets me stepped on. People can be cruel and I didn’t get my fair shake being the boy-scout type. But, I think maybe I did, once.

I’ve never used the phrase “cocky bastard” before, being as even-tempered as I am, although it seemed to fit the man. I didn’t know him personally but there was something smug about the way he looked that night, sitting in his 1970’s black Plymouth Fury, the engine left running–I couldn’t blame him; that winter had left everyone with icicles on their nose hairs–and the cherry end of his cigarette mocking me.

He’d parked his cartoonishly creepy car sideways across the alley that led to my reserved, I’ve-got-the-paperwork-to-prove-it parking space. If his body language could’ve talked, it would’ve said, “I oughtta snap that geek in half just for lookin’ in my direction.” I’m sure he could have.

I’m surprised I had spine enough to approach him, especially because when I got out of my car, I slipped on a patch of black ice and had to do a little windmill action with my arms to rebalance myself.

“H-hey, sir. How ya doing tonight?” I said to his closed window. When he rolled it down, I’m not sure whether it was the sight of him or the unloving temperature that made me shiver.

“Well, well, well…as I live and breathe, look what the storm blew in–a lovely snowflake,” he said. He may as well have drank a bottle of Jose Cuervo that had run through a sewage pipe for all I could tell. He flicked his cigarette into the snow.

“I’m just trying to pull into my parking spot,” I gestured. “I’m not in a huge rush or anything,” I added, intimidated, “but my apartment is right there.”

Pulling his lips back from his yellowed teeth, he wheezed. The ghosts of a thousand cigarettes were in that noise. I mean, I guess you could say he was smiling and laughing, though I’m not entirely sure he was doing either. I took a couple steps backwards, readying myself to retreat back to my car across the street, desperate for warmth–and I mean safety and humanity more than I mean my car’s heater.

“Guess there’s only one thing for me to do, then, isn’t there?” For a moment, his glare bore a hole through any ‘tis-the-season brotherhood I’d hoped for from him. I couldn’t respond. “Doesn’t look like I need to be here tonight anyhow.” He put his Plymouth in gear.

“Y–you waiting for somebody?” I asked, trying to be over-friendly and also checking into what he was up to, you know, incase I’d later need to give a report to the police after some unfortunate incident. Of what kind? I didn’t even want to entertain that further.

The man’s resounding laugh, hacking and deep, was followed by a, “You might say that.” He tipped his hat–the one that looked like he’d snatched it right off the head of the last gunslinger himself–and winked.

I made a point to check his easily-memorized license plate when he drove off: P O S T M A N.

“Jesus,” I said to myself, shaking my head, “which King novel did he step out of?” I was stuck somewhere in between chuckling and pissing myself.


Would you believe that demonic, Vin-Diesel-cowboy was blocking my parking space again the next night? That’s just what I needed following a shit-eating day at work, another confrontation with The Postman of Darkness. I didn’t even have the drive to get out of my car this time.

The man in the Plymouth rolled his window down and waved for me to come over to him. I went. Dejected. Why not? What could possibly make my life worse anyway? I bent over a bit next to his window.

“Get in,” he hoarsed.


“Get in I said,” he snapped. “C’mon. I ain’t talking just to move the wind around.”

I did as I was told.

Neither of us spoke for a while. He had a slow, romantic ritual in getting out a new cigarette and lighting it.

“Have I done something?”

He was more focused on his smoke and staring out his window than with me. “‘Course not. It’s better you were in here. No sense in being out there.”

How the fuck was I supposed to respond to that?

“And, don’t worry, junior; I already called off your assassins.” He spat another of his from-the-depths-of-R’lyeh laughs after seeing my reaction. “Ha! Oh, sonny, if you could’ve seen the look on your face! Relax. Just a bit of my brand of humor. I’m a funny guy, ya know, contrary to what you’re thinking.”

“Is there something you want from me?”

“Nothing more than for you to keep on being the fella that ya already are.” He then hushed me and told me to take a look, pointing towards my car that was parked on the street.

A man in a ski mask walked to my car and tried to open the passenger door but it was locked. He then pulled a gun from his waistband and used the butt end to smash the window. I sat up ramrod in my seat, but Postman told me to wait a second. An SUV slid down the street, due to the sleet and ice, and met its end smashed up against my car. Both totaled. So was the armed thief, whose lifeless body was crushed between the vehicles, his stark blood splashed on the white snow.

I looked at the Postman. He gave me a nod, and I’ll be a son of a bitch if there wasn’t a, “You’re welcome” behind that nod. In that moment, as if there’d been a dozen souls trapped in my veins, my God, he seemed familiar to me. I was convinced I’d met him before the previous night.

“Oh my Goodness! Call the police! Call 9-1-1!” an elderly neighbor screamed. She was the only other person there with me, as I found myself standing outside, in my apartment alleyway, no Plymouths or Postmen in sight.


53 thoughts on “The Geek and the Plymouth Postman

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              1. I’ll think of something. Lol…
                (think of that as lazy evil laughter. I imagined instead of the typical menacing laugh, this time I’m a Villain who can’t laugh properly.
                “I have you right where I want you! A-hyuk! “) <<——- it's late, lol
                I've written poetry with other people, but never a story.


  1. Having not read any of your stories before, I had no idea what to expect. Gotta say I was pleasantly surprised. You have a knack for writing colorful characters using just a few lines. That’s some serious skill, I’m impressed.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you SO much for taking the time to read it! I truly appreciate you being here. your compliments mean a lot. makes me want to write the next one to be 10 times better than this one. hope to see you again! looking forward to enjoying more of your blog as well!


  2. I so love this. I so love your style. And the nose hair icicles…oh my gosh, I am obsessed about those things…when I first visited the US, I was so not ready for that experience…I so love that you have it in a story!!!
    I also have a story from a friend who was in Russia to teach at a seminary…it is such an awesome story about an incredibly unlikely person who saved him from a seriously scary situation and then disappeared. I wouldn’t believe it from anyone else, but he is a good friend, an amazing man. And seriously, your story reminded me of it…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The cold can take your breath away here. I would love love love to read that story of your friend’s if I can? Vanessa it’s so nice to have you read this and enjoy it. I’m so glad you liked the style. I’ve been making a point to try to ramp up things stylistically. I want to keep experimenting too and push myself. Thank you again for your support. So happy to know you

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I truly love cold like that, it’s exhilarating!
        And I totally enjoyed it. You are a great writer! It’s my privilege to read it, really.

        I am trying to remember the details of my friend’s situation…it was about the late 90s I think, and he was in Russia being driven to the class he was teaching, in the wintertime, when they were pulled over by mafia, in a van. There were a few guys trying to extort something from his driver who had gotten out of the car and told him not to move. He was really scared, naturally. Out of nowhere this really rough looking character got into the car next to him. He hadn’t been in the van…he had no idea where he had come from. And he just started chatting with Chad in Russian, bubbling along even though Chad could not understand a word. It was like he was just conversing with him in a friendly way to keep his mind off of what was happening, and to make him feel like someone was watching out for them. But going by looks and his manner alone, he was very intimidating. And then after this really loud and animated discussion going on outside, it suddenly ended…this guy got out of the car and literally just vanished. When the driver got back into the car, Chad asked him about him and he didn’t know what he was talking about, he hadn’t seen anyone with Chad. And he said that for some reason, the guys decided to just leave him after he had given them a small token of something. They just left! Chad had a much better description of the guy, but it’s been so long, I don’t remember details unfortunately. But I will never forget the gist of it!

        Anyway, I am really happy to know you too 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

        1. that sounds like a fucking AWESOME story and totally up my alley! wow! i love that you told me this!! makes my imagination go into overdrive!

          i also have a friend who told me about like the mob in a foreign country. they came and forced him out of his car and stole it. later, the head boss guy pulled up beside him on the road and opened his back hatch and there was a human head in a bag and he said “is this the guy who took your car?” and he said yes. (freaked out out of his mind) the head guy explained he tells his people never to mess with innocent civilians for no reason and he sure paid the price. hahahhah.

          Liked by 1 person

          1. I agree. I had absolute chills when he told me. And a part of me so wished I had been there.
            WOW. Now yours is an amazing story!! Your poor friend, how traumatising!! But how nice of them to pass it on to you haha


    1. hell yeah i’m so glad to hear you say that Phill. there’s been many times I’ve wondered if the picture in my head has been put into the story effectively enough. Great to know you and glad to see you stop in here! i’m enjoying your blog as well! and absolutely I like being called FFP–it’s cool! But it’s also fine too for you to call me Rachel. Hope you’re well!

      Liked by 1 person

  3. ..And I’ll be a son of a bitch if I didn’t say how much I enjoyed this. First time reader here. I’ll be sure to check out the rest of your stuff soon. I like how your personality resonates with your writing.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hot damn! Pumped that you enjoyed. 🙂 so happy to meet you AG thank you so much for your time and feedback. Means a lot. Also–I keep trying to click on your name but it won’t go to your blog. Can you tell me or link it so I can enjoy your site too? Thanks!!!! 🙂


  4. Haha. That’s because I don’t have one. Though if you want to read something I wrote then you can check out a piece I did for Sudden Denouement as a guest. It’s called “The Library Bandit” I’m still relatively new to all of this.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You have no idea how huge of an impact your comment is to me. No idea. like none. especially coming from you, a talented, female, writer who doesn’t know me personally so you can’t be biased. Thank you a million times. 🙂 Also, nothing more a writer loves than for a good fellow writer to compliment a specific detail or line. and the king compliment? I feel like I unlocked a huge achievement. thanks. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

    1. i am trying not to explode from this compliment–for it means the world to me. this is what a writer like me wants to hear. I feel like I just climbed the Chrysler Building with my bare hands. at least I hope you are complimenting me on those things and not critiquing me as those are areas I need to work on…ok halfway through typing this I’m doubting myself. Either way I appreciate your time and feedback so so much !!

      Liked by 1 person

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