“What do you want?!”
“What are you doing trespassing on my land?!”
It was a scratchy, woman’s voice. It was my first day as a deliverer. Her lawn looked better than average.
I fell back with the wind of the door. The woman opened the door, only to slam it right back into my face. “What in the world…”
I turned as if in a trance, and started walking back towards my truck when the psycho started blaring heavy metal. Then I heard her voice.
“Hey you! Come, have a cookie.”
I turned to see a hunched withered and ogrely woman. She had a tattoo on her left cheek that said “kiss me.”
“Have a cookie,” she said.
I felt terror as though this was like Hansel and Gretel, and I was about to be lured into my doom.
“No, thank you ma’am. I’m just here to drop off this package.”
“Package? Hmm.” She looked at the package, her eyes so far open, she resembled a rat. The Metallica was still screaming.
“I just need you to sign right here, ma’am.”
“Have a cookie.”
“That’s okay—I’m on a di—“
“TAKE ONE.” I felt like a little boy under my mother’s wrath, and obeyed her immediately. The cookies were small and black, the color of scorch and they smelled like fish.
I looked up to see her staring at my mouth.
“You a trumpet player?”
By now, I felt so awkward, I didn’t know who I was.
“Uhh, drummer actually.”
“Eat the cookie.”
“I’ll just save it for later, I’m not really hungry.”
“Eat it now, or I’ll kick you.”
I stared at her in dismay.
She then swiped a cookie from the plate, shoved it in my mouth, then kicked me in my shin, threw the package onto my head, and knelt down gave me a wet smooch on the cheek, and pranced back inside.
I spit the thing out, and quit my job the next day.