When youre divorced, 34 years old, and you have a gorgeous 25 year old blond hunk for a boyfriend, you do anything to hold on to him. So for Rays birthday, I gave him something special. I sent myself to him as a birthday gift.
I work for a company that delivers singing greetings for birthdays and holidays. So, on Friday evening, I was sitting in the back of one of our delivery vans wearing only a red bow around my neck, a pair of shoes, and a raincoat.
The driver announced Id be delivered next. I took off my coat and shoes, exposing my white flesh in the dimly lit van, and climbed into one of the companys large boxes, which Id decorated like a present. I hunched down into a squatting position and pulled the lid down tight on the box.
I felt the van slow down, and just creep along. The driver was new to the company, and to Pittsburgh. I assumed he was making sure of the right address. After about five minutes, the van stopped and the motor shut down. I felt the box dragged onto the hydraulic lift, then I rode to the ground. I swayed back and forth, as the dolly slid underneath me. At last, I tilted backward and rode up to the front of my boyfriends house.
The driver shouted he had a package for this address, then my boobs bounced wildly as the box jolted over the doorstep and settled down on the floor. I was soaked with sweat and couldnt wait to get out of this box.
I heard muffled voices then the door slammed, which meant the driver, was gone. Suddenly, I stood straight up, popping the lid off the box, and began to sing Happy Birthday to my boyfriend. I stopped cold at the end of the first line, as I looked into the grinning faces of 4 old, black men.
"I, I think Im in the wrong place," I stammered.
"Not at all," said the man next to me, "my names Marvin, and Im 71 today. My friends and I was just celebrating my birthday."
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