Cubicle Chatter

The Mailbox Thief

Hey man, don’t forget to take your own. You know, that way you look like a victim”

This is the story of Harmon, The Mailbox Thief.

Everyone has their thing and I’m fairly certain that after 4ish years of higher education, I’ve met them all. Whether it’s pissing the bed, losing all belongings, starting a fight, or drunk texting your parents. Everyone has their go to thing once they hit that point of no return, you know the lights are on but nobody’s home point of the night. I thought I’d seen it all, until I met Harmon.

Harmon was an above average honors student who excelled in school and was a raging alcoholic. The only reason I know this, is because he sat next to me my sophomore year in Economics 101 and I made the grave mistake of inviting him to go out with us one night. It was your typical Thirsty Thursday, we paid our $10 and were able to drink as much as our livers would allow. Now a little disclaimer here, I had no idea Harmon was a lunatic, to be honest I took him for more of the nerd type and initially it was only a pity invite. Boy, was I wrong. After about 15 whiskey cokes I find Harmon hustling some poor souls in the corner, taking all their money as they shouted out math problems and he flawlessly answers them. This kid might fit in after all.

Fast forward to the end of the night, we get back to my house with zero women (shocker) and $140 dollars, thanks to Harmon. Lo and behold, the party must go on. I’m never one to say no to a few beers after the bar, but tonight was a little more laid back and I felt the night was winding down. Boy, was I wrong, part II (seeing the trend here?). Harmon, for one reason or another, thought he was casted in Project X, as he yells “Till the break of dawn yo!” and takes off down the street. What the F*&%? Is going on, 10 minutes ago I was preparing for my nightly ritual, and now I have a blacked out genius sprinting down my street into the sweet abyss. Now, I’ve learned a thing or two about dealing with drunk bastards from my time around the block. They’re just like sleep walkers, let them run their course and try to minimize the damage, but never, ever wake them up. So, I let him go, figuring he’ll find his way back. Sure enough, 15 minutes later here comes good ole Harm sprinting back to my arms like a lost puppy, only this time he’s brought gifts. He gets to my driveway and like a proud hunter displaying his kill, he lays the mailbox at my feet and shows off his devilish grin.

“Harmon, why in the sweet shit did you steal a mailbox?”

“C’mon bro, I got something to show you”

So, I bite, Harmon takes me on a stroll and it turns out he stole every f****** mailbox on my street. At this point, I am madder than a midget with a yo-yo. I didn’t get laid (shocker), its past my bedtime, and now I have to deal with the aftermath of Hurricane Harmon and every one of my neighbors knowing the only college house on the street stole all their mailboxes. Before I can even muster up the words to unleash the fury on Harmon, a car pulls up, he gets in and rolls down the window and utters one last sentence before he is driven off into the darkness.

“Hey man, don’t forget to take your own. You know, that way you look like a victim”

And I never heard from him again.

Well, actually I did, he was in class the next Tuesday, just as he was everyday. Turns out the “car” that pulled up was his uber but I needed to add some dramatic effect, so you get the point. I did however take his advice, and I was never questioned by the neighbors as being the mailbox thief. They considered me a victim and actually offered to help install my new one. Of course, I never asked Harmon to go out with me ever again. But if your out there somewhere, Harmon, thanks for the $140.

Peep the pictures below bitches.

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