Newborn Nazi

by Rhoda D'Ettore

  Joshua had been in mid swing of a 70 pound sack of mail. He intended to throw it over his shoulder so that he could carry it across the room, however, at Jessica's statement, the sack went flying over his shoulder and landed on the floor. Joshua was no longer interested in the mail, he heard a word that fascinated him. "RUSSIA? Did you says R U S S I A?"

  Jessica could appreciate someone who loved conversations about history, but she was not prepared for a mail sack to go flying across the room because of it. Joshua approached her with raised eyebrows, and the excitement that a child has when seeing something for the first time. She responded, "Oh yes. I majored in History in college. European and Russian Monarchies are amongst my favorite aspects of History."

  To Jessica's surprise, Joshua was even more excited now. Names of Czars, political theories of the ages, and questions on assassination conspiracies came flowing out of his mouth. He hardly even took a breath, and certainly did not give her enough time to answer. Finally, he said, "I love history, especially Russian history. The Romanov Dynasty was my favorite course to teach when I was a professor at University of Maryland."

  Now it was Jessica who looked at him with amazement. A professor with a PhD D working here? Joshua spoke with a bit of southern twang, which she realized seemed to prejudice her from expecting him to have a PhD D. However, Jessica knew from that moment that she and Joshua would become good friends. It did not matter that he was 25 years her senior, with his Army jacket literally being older than her. The two discussed various European countries and rulers throughout the rest of the night. They discussed the wives of Henry the VIII, the ruthlessness of Catherine de Medici, the idiosyncrasies of King George III. They discussed how they each had a collection of biographies and other non-fiction works. There were 12 other workers in their area at the time, but they just seem to fade into the walls as Jessica and Joshua became consumed in conversation while they worked the mail sacks.

  At one point another employee interrupted them, and Joshua and the employee shook hands. Joshua turned to Jessica, "Ms. Jessica, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Andrew Blade. He is one of the best employees in this building, and if you need to know anything, He is the man to find."

  Mr. Blade seemed honored for that announcement, greeted Jessica, then asked Joshua for his assistance, "Joshua, do you still have your knife on you? I need you to cut this cardboard box open for me. My cheap blade won't do it."

  Joshua quickly reached behind his back, and from out of his waistband, he pulled out a huge hunting knife that looked like something a samurai warrior would carry. Look out Rambo, this guy has you beat!

  Andrew must have realized that Jessica's eyes were bulging out, and in an attempt to quash her fears, he said, "Ain't that some shit? The first time I met him, I saw him with this knife while he was hacking into cardboard. After hearing that southern accent of his.... all i could think of was the song Dueling Banjos from the movie Deliverance." Joshua continued to cut the boxes that Andrew had requested, then Andrew went on, "Don't worry little lady, he won't hurt you. But yeah, I was scared shitless too when I first saw him whip out that weapon. And my name is BLADE... and I'm from the hood." Andrew then proceeded on his way.

  By the end of the night, Jessica and Joshua decided that they would exchange books with each other like a library. Jessica's first day went by very quickly until an incredibly loud and frightening voice bellowed, "PPPPPPPPUUUUUUUSSSSHHHH IIIIIIIITTTTT OOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUTTTTTT!"

  "What the hell was that?" she looked at Joshua, realizing that deep, scary pit of hell sound came from him.

  Once again with his Santa Claus voice, Joshua stated, "Oh that? That is my nightly alarm to the employees in this section. That is how they know we are finished in this section, then it is time to push out the mail to the platform for dispatch. I yell that every morning at 4:30 am." Jessica then realized that her first night was finally over. What originally was supposed to be a six hour shift had become a twelve hour night, but was pleasantly broken up with interesting and intelligent conversation. Not bad, maybe I can survive here.

  Jessica's second day started out normally until she saw a black woman driving a forklift, blasting the horn and screaming, “All you white devils must die! The Lord told me that your day is coming soon!” Jessica was scared to death. She felt her pulse start to race, her respiration increased, and she tried to devise a way to stay out of this woman's way. Everyone knows the term “going postal” and she did not want to be anywhere near someone who was going to start shooting! She made sure that she steered clear of this woman as much as possible, forming a wall around herself made of containers called APCs. Each APC was about six foot tall and on wheels. Jessica continued over the next few days to hide from the woman while surrounded by these APCs, ducking her head down every time she saw the crazy woman drive by.

  One day however, the black woman purposely ran her forklift into one of these containers, breaking Jessica's wall of fortitude, and screamed, “Gotcha!”

  “Hello” Jessica said very timidly, not knowing what to expect. Perhaps if I am quiet, she will not notice my blue-eyed blonde, very white devilish complexion that turns into a lobster in the sun!

  She seemed startled herself, “Oh I'm sorry, I thought you were Erica. Do you know where she is?”

  Thankfully, she was looking for Jessica's co-worker, “Sorry, she is not scheduled today. She will be in tomorrow.” Jessica hoped her politeness would keep the woman from trying to attack this “white devil”. The woman just thanked Jessica, and went on her way. She wondered if the woman had just had a bad day when Jessica first saw her screaming---either that or the woman was bipolar. Wow... dodged a bullet on that one! Maybe even literally. Jessica found out later that her name was Terry, and she was actually a very nice person---just loud.

  There were plenty of loud people who worked there, some were to be taken seriously, and others not so seriously. Part of the problem with being new in any environment is the lack of knowledge of correct procedures. Another problem is that with so many different people working in one environment, it is nearly impossible to satisfy everyone. Jessica had to learn this the hard way. A soft spoken man in his sixties walked Jessica around, showing her from where to get mail once she was finished processing the mail she had. "When you finish sorting the mail you have, go to that section across the aisle and get a full container of mail to bring back with you. Whenever you take a full container, please replace it with an empty one. Not only does this save the person in that section time, but that person will respect and appreciate you for your consideration." Sounds simple. Take a full container, and give them an empty so that they can fill it again.

  An hour later, Jessica finished her mail, and did what she was told. She pulled an empty container across the aisle, took her full container of mail, then went back to sorting her mail. Ten minutes later she heard the loud clang of metal, as well as yelling that was very deep and angry. The voice was coming closer to her, "Who the hell keeps bringing these empty containers over here? Was it you? Does it look like I need anymore freaking containers? I work with the world's biggest idiot who has 40 freaking containers here! I don't need another container until the end of the freaking millennium, thanks to him! If you EVER bring me another freaking container, I will push all 40 of my containers into your section so that YOU cannot walk in your section the way I can't!" This man was literally throwing these rolling containers into others. His hands were flapping around in the air, his face got really red, and he was so incredibly mad that he was perspiring. As veins bulged from his temples, he screamed, "That's it! I need a freaking beer!" The man then walked away.

  When Terry the forklift driver heard the commotion, she approached the confused Jessica, "Don't worry honey, he's crazy. Everyone knows that. He is one of the ones at the top of the list. Just try to avoid him."

  Now even more confused, Jessica asked, "He's on the list? What list?"

  "You know, the list of people in the building most likely to go crazy
and shoot up the place. One day, he will probably go off, so in the mean time, try to be on his good side--- just in case." Terry said this with such a serious look that Jessica was unsure whether it was a joke, or real.

  Jessica prodded, "Are you serious? You all actually have a list of likely shooters?" Jessica's eyes started scanning the area looking at the faces of other employees, wondering who else might be on the list, or just how many "crazies" were in the building.

  "Jess darling, not only is there a list, but there is a betting pool guessing who will be the first one to go crazy, in what part of the building, and what method they will use. I have $100 on a supervisor named Mark... on the platform....with a bomb. You need to talk to Jose if you want to get in on it." After that, Terry drove away on her forklift, and Jessica was praying the rest of the day would go by without incident.

  Preview: The Creek: Where Stories of the Past Come Alive

  (This story is included with Goin' Postal)

  Love Revolution Style, 1777

  The British had captured Philadelphia, the seat of the Continental Congress. The American troops were exhausted, wounded, and spiritually broken. As they rowed their boats down a small tributary of the Delaware River, they found a good place to camp. Battered and bloody, they pushed the boats ashore, trying not to injure the wounded any further. The only structure in site was a small farmhouse on a hilltop with a barn. The area was tranquil, and Colonel Thomas was amazed that there is still one place on earth that has not been touched by this bloody war. He was a serious, yet compassionate man in his 40s, a good leader, and protected his men as he would his children. He took this last loss personally, as his company was from the Philadelphia area, therefore they were truly fighting for their homeland.

  "Lieutenant Harkins, take your men to recon that barn and house. See if there are supplies, and be kind to the owners, remember we fight for them," ordered Colonel Thomas. He knew the men had not eaten a real meal in months, and the sight of a stocked kitchen might turn civilized men into beasts. Lieutenant Harkins did as instructed. He took two groups of men, one to surround the barn, and another to surround the house. Men might not actually be the correct word, most were in their teens and were scared to death. They were definitely traumatized after this last battle, and suffering from the heat. The cool water of the creek was a refreshing sight, but they had to be wary of impending danger, so rest would have to wait.

  As the first group of men approached the house, a woman came out with a rifle extended. She was quivering in fear, as if she had never shot before, but she was determined to protect herself. "I don't want any trouble. You can stay in the barn, and I will provide you with what food I can, but you must leave me and my family alone," she said with a cracking voice, showing her fear. Her long yellow hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and her bright blue eyes were filled with terror.

  Lieutenant Harkins approached the woman with a hand slightly raised, trying to relax her. He was a 30 something attractive man, even more so with his rugged looking beard. He had deep forest green eyes, and light brown hair that shined like gold in the summer sun. "We mean you no harm, ma'am. We only need to camp, rest, and tend to our wounded. We appreciate your generosity of nourishment, we are much obliged. If you would allow me, I would like to speak with you, as my men make camp." He then signaled to the men to back away from the home and return to the creek bed.

  The woman lowered her weapon, nodded her head and invited the lieutenant onto her veranda, as she pointed to a wooden bench. To ease her nerves, he sat as she suggested, trying to move slowly. She offered him some lemonade as he questioned her. "Have you seen any enemy troops in these parts?" She shrugged him a negative response. "Do you have any men here to whom I may speak?" Again, she shrugged him a no. He realized that she was trying to avoid eye contact out of fear. He then twisted his head to stare directly at her and said, "On my honor as a gentleman, as a soldier, and as an American, you are safe from harm." At last her demeanor seemed to relax. She began breathing normally, and her shoulders seemed to slump back to a normal position. A slight smile broached her face.

  "Thank you, sir. My husband and son have gone off to fight, and I have had heard no word in months. I have two young children here, and do not want any trouble". He wondered about her age, as she looked very much like a child herself.

  They continued to sip the lemonade when he asked for her permission to speak to his men, "Do you mind ma'am if I inform the men that it is permissible to utilize the barn? We will remain in the barn and by the water, as you requested. My men are young and weary. They are famished, and need to bathe in the cool water for a bit. But as I said, I promise you that we will remain away from the house. With your permission, I would like to speak with them, and then return to you. Is that agreeable?" He spoke in a low, and calming tone that put her more at ease with every word he spoke.

  "Yes, sir, Thank You."

  He headed down the hill to the shoreline where most of the men had assembled, laying about on the ground due to exhaustion, from both the heat and battle. He informed the colonel of his conversation with the woman, then the colonel began barking orders to make camp. Once the men knew they were out of danger, it seemed as though a dark cloud was lifted. Some of the men began undressing to jump in the cool water, others pulled the boats onto shore, while yet others tried to rest, sprawled out under the shades of trees. Even the shade could not shield them from the extreme humidity, so the healthy began sponging down the weak.

  The lieutenant then went back to the woman as promised. He wanted her to know that he was there, to protect her from what seemed like a bunch of frightening men. He found her door closed when he reached the house, so he sat on the porch step to wait. He would sit there all day and night, if need be.. He wanted her to feel guarded. He could hear the mischievous laughter of his men, finally getting a break from fighting. He could hear the splashing of the water as men jumped in the creek, and wrestled like children. He laughed, appreciative that they were getting a chance to relax. Hopefully, this mental break from the war would last for quite some time.

  The woman came to the door with cheese and bread. She informed the lieutenant that his men could slaughter and roast one of her pigs. He was taken back by the generosity, and very grateful. As the men built the fire to roast the pig, the woman and the lieutenant spoke for most of the night.

  "Where are the children you spoke of? I have not seen, nor heard from them."

  She explained, "I fear that I have misled you, sir. My father owns this land. He went off to fight, leaving me behind. I do not know if he is dead or alive, and legally I cannot inherit land. Therefore I told you that it was my husband's. I cannot be removed from my childhood home, as I would be devastated. It is all I have left of a connection to my family. I thought that even a strange man would be less likely to harm a woman with children."

  "Understood. Does that mean that you are not married?" He asked with a smirk on his face, as he had not seen a woman in almost a year. She shrugged a negative, nervously. His own wife and infant had died in childbirth, and since then he had shown no interest. This woman was capturing his attention, though. She was about 22 years old, with a sweet voice, and was schooled. Over the course of the night, they discussed both of their families, the war, and animals. He told her stories of how he had grown up on a farm, and offered to help her milk the cows in the morning.

  As the day turned to dusk, the soldiers sang over the campfire and filled their bellies. The lieutenant and woman walked the acres of her land, pointing at the stars, and listening to the sounds of the night. The lieutenant then looked the woman in the eyes and said, "For hours we have talked about everything from stars to horses, and yet, I do not know your name. Please do not leave me in suspense, give me the gift of your name."

  She smiled and seemed pleased. With an innocent smile and cast down eyes, she said, "Miss Sarah Collins." She was hoping that he would call her Sarah, but she knew that was too presumptuous. They did not know each o
ther, and the proper way to address her would be to call her Miss Collins. Most of the men her age had been off to fight for over a year already, so she had no prospects, no gentleman callers. The only men who remained in her town were the elderly, lame, and the preachers. This was the first real attention she received from a man, and yet she knew it was improper since she was all alone, without a chaperone.

  "Well, Miss Collins, I can promise you that we will be moving out in a couple of days, once the men are rested. Unless that is a problem for you, and you require we leave earlier?"

  "No. Of course not. The men need their rest. Then I shall see you tomorrow morning?" She really wanted to see him again, but did not want to appear anxious. "To milk the cows?"

  His eyes had lit up at the question, hoping that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was impressed with how well read she was. She could quote Shakespeare and Plato better than most scholars, and it fascinated him. She was beautiful, intelligent, and generous. He kissed her hand and said, "Until the morrow, Miss Collins." Then he quickly turned from her walking back to camp, before he was tempted to kiss more than her hand.

  In the morning, the birds were chirping, and the air was still filled with the smoke of the roasted pig. The lieutenant realized that during most of the war, he hadn't paid attention to the sounds around him, mostly because it was all cannons and rifles--he had learned to tune it out. But last night, the owls and crickets were soothing. And this morning, it seemed that the chirping birds were encouraging him to run to the barn, to await his new found love interest. He went to the creek, washed himself, put on a change of uniform, and went back up to the farm house to see his lovely Miss Collins.