Sometime last week, I walked into the UPS Store to pick up my latest batch of mail. The cheery young girl who works behind the desk gave me the latest update on everything strange and shipping (you'll recall that the last time we connected, she was a bit taken aback by my observation that, according to a Do's and Don't's poster affixed to the area of her counter near the register, you apparently cannot ship $50,000 hamsters. Who knew?).
Today, she was recounting the incident involving the man who had dropped off a "small strange package" a few days prior.
"I asked him if it contained anything live. He assured me, 'No,' then he paid for it, and hurried out. I noticed that the flaps were not taped down very well; there were gaps..."
"As if to allow something to breathe?" I proposed.
"Yes! Exactly. So I shook it a little and heard something scratching inside..."
"Oh no," I responded, prepared for the best of the worst. "And so you opened it?"
"Yes! And guess what was inside..."
"A small zebra in need of a manicure?"
"Nope. About twelve small tortoises."
"Um," I offered, "perhaps they were Box turtles."
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