THE HUNDRED-AND-SECOND PAGE

Manuscript shaped cartons and old Xerox paper boxes are hard to come by. The trash bins behind stationary and home office supply stores don’t provide as much mailing material as is often needed. Pasteboard boxes are far too elegant for the likes of my editor--and certainly too expensive.

A task of this importance would need to employ whatever was required, so we ordered up a dozen or so manuscript boxes covered in coated stock of various hues, a rainbow of surprises awaiting him.

The next morning, we mailed off the gun from a post office in a New Jersey town, where apparently the Buendias now lived, for it was one of that noble family’s members whose return address was on the package. We found a cute little Feliz Navidad to affix to the outside wrapper.

We envisioned its arrival. When the editorial assistant opened the carton she might have thought it an odd Christmas gift for him to receive, but there’s no accounting for tastes, is there? No worse than a fruitcake. Better that it should arrive from a friend than from a munitions distributor, no?

No.