Hey kids, Posh Deluxe here. You know, we get a lot of fun packages at FYA HQ. Usually, they're filled with books (yay!) and sometimes, there's even some sweet swag like magnets or pens or, in the case of ABC Family, potted plants. But yesterday I received a package that pretty much blew my mind.
Everything about this package was mysterious from the get-go. When I picked it up, the post office had torn the shizz out of it and wrapped it in a plastic bag with an apology letter. Because the post office really cares, you guys.
The return label indicated that Chronicle Books was the sender, so when I tore off the bag and looked inside the envelope, I wasn't surprised to find a book:
However, I was EXTREMELY surprised when I looked at the bottom of the envelope and found THIS:
Y'ALL THERE WAS A MOTHERCUSSING CELL PHONE IN MY PACKAGE.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "Posh, this is just like how ABC Family sent Erin an iPad so she could solve a puzzle involving nine paths and find the secret Grey Damon's hotness."
But did Grey Damon call me on that cell phone? NO HE DID NOT.
In fact, I quickly deducted that this phone was not part of a bananas marketing campaign because it was totally banged up, and sending out crappy old phones doesn't seem like a particularly smooth strategy.
Instead, I immediately decided that the phone meant one of two things:
1. A serial killer was about to call me and then come stab me eleventy times.
2. The book was somehow a bomb, which would be triggered by the cell phone.
Obviously, there are totally rational conclusions based on real life movies I've seen.
I managed to overcome my fears long enough to turn the phone on (I AM SO BRAVE), but all I got was a Samsung start-up screen before the phone automatically switched off.
It's times like these that I wish Veronica Mars was still holding office hours in the girls bathroom.
So far, I haven't heard from any insane murderers, nor has Jake Gyllenhaal showed up to defuse the bomb (dammit). My only remaining guess is that somewhere between NYC and Austin, a postal worker is wondering what the hell happened to his/her cell phone.
Any of you Nancy Drews out there want to offer up some other theories? I NEED THIS TO MAKE SENSE PLEASE.
About the Author: Sarah lives in Austin, TX, where she programs films at the Alamo Drafthouse. Sarah enjoys fancy cocktails, dance parties and anything that sparkles (except vampires).
