“Psssst. If you go up into the tree house we built six years ago off Macy Street, and you pull up gently on the windowsill on the north side you will find my grandmother’s false teeth. Take them to the Mailboxes Etc. and carefully bubble wrap them, then pack them tightly in a small box and ship it express to Nat Kingsmont, 1446 Eddie Court, Nashville. Do not. And I repeat, do not, leave your fingerprints on the box or the teeth. Wear gloves the whole time, not latex, but white cotton. You can find some at any drugstore, often in the lotion aisle. I’m slipping a note into your pocket right now. Left hand side. Do you feel that? You will put that in the box with the teeth. Do not read it, it is not something you could comprehend anyway. It has the word “tarnish” in it like seven times, there that was a little bit I chose to share with you. Now you’re complicit, but also hopefully you feel more fully invested. Like you’re a part of this caper. Once you mail the teeth to Nat, once they are out of your possession, I’m going to need you to stake out the business until closing time to make sure that a very tall gentleman wearing a purple bowler hat does not enter that Mailboxes Etc. If you do not see that happen by sundown then your work is done, and you can sit back and wait for payment which will be delivered by courier in six to ten business days and disguised in the false, hollow end of a boomerang. However, if the very tall man with the purple bowler does indeed enter the Mailboxes Etc. while on your watch, I’m going to need you to drive immediately to the nearby stables, find a man named Alistair and tell him you “need the horse.” Do you have experience with horses? I really hope so. He will provide you with a horse named “Caramel,” a mare of good temperament. You will gallop full out to the Mailboxes Etc. and launch yourself and Caramel through the front window. Do not fret about Caramel being hurt, she has trained years for this. You, however, will be what we call “winging it,” so good luck. This action should provide sufficient distraction to foul the very tall man with the purple bowler hat’s plans. Once the dust settles you are to dismount, give Caramel the firm command, “HOME,” and then run away as fast as you can. Board a train to Vermont and we will catch up with you there. All right, that’s it, I’m going back to homeroom now, see you at lunch, I hear tell today is pizza day. I like mine with the ground hamburger on top. Bye.”
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This just launched me back to 1981 and I can’t catch my breath because I’m laughing too hard. But wait I’m still trying to hear your next instruction through my hysteria and the result of my well-being after I gallop through the window depends on it.
Very tall man in purple bowler hat? Let me guess. John “School of Silly Walks” Cleese? Stan Laurel?