THE HUNDRED-AND-SIXTH PAGE

Just as I was preparing the label and setting out for the long drive to Pennsylvania for the mailing, I received news I first found devastating, then utterly exhilarating.

I was utterly keyed up for the trip. Every moment of my preparations was accompanied by delicious fantasies of its arrival.

Why would he have doubts about he, himself, opening a package marked PERSONAL from the Book-of-the-Month Club? It was still close enough to the holiday season that he might be expecting some kind of payola. His greed and insolence would not allow him to think it an unlikely source for graft.

The beauty of the thing was the label so carefully crafted on my computer scanner. Only a master counterfeiter could have detected the minor imperfections and would have much admired my choice of paper stock. (Have I neglected to mention that I am a devoted book club subscriber? The clubs often come up with items I can find nowhere else. Lord knows, I had an abundance of labels to select from for their immaculateness) The original mail-to address was easily removed; god bless Photoshop.

Perhaps the greatest challenge was reconstructing a B.O.M. carton. I did so. Suddenly, it was all for nought. My craft and guile were made redundant by a single phone call.