Uli



Uli wandered into the post office with a dazed look on his face. He wondered what it was that had brought him here. Of all the many times he'd made his way into this office, this den of sloth, he had never felt quite this much aversion to being here. Slowly, tentatively, he positioned himself at the back of the lengthy line. He fished around in his pocket for a letter, package, anything to explain his presence here. His efforts were rewarded with a broken pencil, a crdit card recipt and a small tangle of lint.

Why in god's name was he here? If not to mail a letter, then why? He had no pick-up slips. He wasn't moving. No need to change addresses. He wasn't after any cardboard boxes or poster tubes. He even had a roll of 100 stamps sitting on his kitchen table. So why was he here?

Uli sighed with resignation, unable to comprehend the forces that had made him walk into the local post office. If his feet had felt it necessary to drag him here, then what right had he to contradict them. He stood in line, patiently waiting his turn at the counter.

Uli had never really believed in fate. He didn't care for devine province or acts of god. But for some reason, he didn't want to give up on this chance reality. Whatever it was that had brought him here, be it his feet, god, or the post master general and his mind control ray, Uli was here now, and he'd better get used to the idea. The line moved slowly, as always. behind the counter stood three extremely hagared looking postal workers. One, wearing the nametag "Waldo" seemed to be a mixture of male, female, and sponge. He/She seemed exhausted to the point of being dead. Were it not for Waldo's occasional arm movements and slight mutters, he/she might as well have been dead. Even dead, Waldo was more effective at his/her job than his/her coworkers.

The coworkers seemed to have an overly emphacized need to run into the back room. Esspecially when it was entirely unnecessary.

"May I have two 34 cent stamps?" A customer would ask.

"One moment." the clerk would respond, as she slowly diengaged from her desk and walked into the back room. Several moments would pass. The customer would begin to sputter and blow air through his lips in a frustrated, horse-like fashion. After what could easily have been an hour, but was more likely only five minutes, the clerk would return, cooly slide her way back into the desk, and busy herself with some unseen paperwork. The customer would begin again.

"May I please have two 34 cent stamps?" The customer would ask again, this time almost sounding irrate.

The clerk would put her hand up, eyes still cast downward at her unseen paper work. She would continue to fill out non-existent forms and push her customer off to the side, mentally. eventually, she would finish with the paper and look up at the now glowering customer. "Yes?" She'd say, and finally sell the man some stamps.

It was in this mire that uli stood waiting for nearly an hour. In that hour, the clerks had only seen six customers. Uli was next. He still didn't know why he was here. He still hated this place. Yet he still refused to leave.

In a few more minutes, Waldo looked up and waved him over to him/her. As Uli got closer, he began to feel that Waldo was indeed a her. He was still vaguely unsure, and thusly, avoided mentioning any gender specifying topics of conversation. Waldo slowly finished up some paperwork, then looked up at Uli quizitively.

"Can I help you?" Waldo asked, through her thin black eyes, half closed.

"No." Uli stated, matter-of-factly.

Waldo blinked, which was nearly undetectable through her dark circled eyes and half shut eyelids. It seemed to take her a long moment to comprehend what had been said. Uli shifted his weight from foot to foot, nervously worrying about her reaction.

after another 9 month pregnant pause, Waldo asked again "may I help you sir?"

Again, Waldo said "No."

Waldo was confused and upset now. Her voice almost fluctuated from a monotone to a duotone. Almost. "Then why are you standing here. Why did you wait in line?"

Uli searched his mind once again. he still had no reason to be here. Why lie? "I don't know really. I hate the post office."

Waldo rolled her eyes, another motion that was nearly undetectable thanks to her sunken face.

Uli leaned towards her. "You Can't ever help me. You can barely help yourself." Uli waivered for a moment. That last bit sounded too much like a bad cliche for his tastes. he resumed after a nearly comedic pause. "You sit here all day making $23 an hour, moving the speed of molasis up hill! And then some of you freak out and shoot people! It's nearly impossible for you to get fired, you have no motivation to please the customer, and yet you're still being paid twice as much as any of the rest of us!"

Waldo looked hurt, and slumped forward in her chair as soon as Uli uttered the word "us!" She didn't move from her spot. Uli leaned over the desk and looked at her lifeless body. He poked her. "Waldo?" No response. Some of the other workers were now looking at him, wondering why he was poking one of their comrades. Uli quickly pulled himself back over the counter. He tried to look innocent. He shrugged and giggled slightly.

Slowly, subtletly, Uli's feet began to disengage him from the counter. he backpedaled as unobtrusively as he could, knowing that every eye in the post office was now on him. They watched him, as if all were trying to determine who would act first.

The first action was taken by the postal employees. Simmultaneously, the two slow moving clerks who had up until now, been in possession of the reflexes of a dead walrus, were now leaping over the countertop. They were both armed; one with a shotgun, the other with a desert eagle .50.

For a moment, Uli froze. His fellow customers fell to the floor, in a kneejerk reaction they had grown accustomed to thanks to movies. Uli's feet took over once again and propeled him towards the door at a blnding speed. Behind him, his ears flinched as they were dragged away from the deafening sound of gun shots. Uli was out the door and hurtleing down the street now, the gunshots continuing behind him. He could no longer think. His bowels took matters into their own hands in an attempt to make his body lighter and easier to propel.

Uli rounded what seemed like his thousandth corner, and turned to look behind him. It seemed that his postal assailants werte no longer following him. Not wanting to find out if they were still there, he ducked into the nearest doorway to him and opened the door.

And Uli found himself inside the DMV.



















































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