Southern Fried Weirdness

By Daniel Wallace

Dear Sirs, you must know how long I have waited to receive my sent-off-for object and having yet to receive it am troubled in a way no doubt beyond your job specifications, and I am writing now for some relief.

Fully aware though I am of the complexities the mechanics the sad numbing routine of the day-to-day you (we all) are forced willy-nilly to perform (it killed my father), and though your own situation without question merits at the very least a more sympathetic ear than you may or may not have access to I still must insist in the strongest possible way the delay I have endured to date is entirely unacceptable and I demand your immediate attention to this matter. My wife is very ill.  Six to eight weeks the doctors said and that was three weeks ago – which (it must be a coincidence) is how much you gave me too in the beginning and look, how many lives must I grace with my contempt, every drop of blood wrung from my heart like an old rag in her hands. She waits for me now, counting as I am the days. 

Dear Sirs, I placed the order in good faith I fulfilled your terms even the small print I read, what more can I do?  Picture an old man peering deep into his box with only hope and finding not the sent-off-for object but other less valuable items and sometimes that darkness, nothing at all, how long can this really take? Honor my expectation, Sirs, my wife is in some pain. And I am aware there are others I am not the only one who has an interest in receiving this object, there are millions like me.  Your job is not an easy one.  My God I told her, we are not special, we are just other people, and yet you would think there would be more to it than this, that it would end up better or different at least, but then we have never really had a clue.

Dear Sirs, inside me there is something burning.

And if as I suspect your organization is a large one perhaps my original order was lost.  This is my wife's suggestion, she said it may never have arrived or if it did it was perhaps lost or misplaced or sent to the wrong department, or if indeed it was received and packaged and shipped it was sent to an incorrect address: my penmanship, she said, leaves something to be desired, something to be desired, she said, my scrawling old claw-like hands.  I don't know what to think.  She has two to three weeks now if you can believe the doctors, and I can, looking at her I can, my wife, and in two to three weeks we'll see what happens, and I will talk to the doctors about what has happened to my wife at that time.  So you see how that explains this letter: I follow up with things.

In closing dear Sirs let me just say that whatever has happened and that whatever may happen in the future so help me God I hold no one directly or personally responsible, no one person or terrible force in the world for as my wife says (her voice as weak as water now, the shadow of a whisper) I knew what I was getting into when I asked for it, I knew, I'm not as innocent as I seem sirs not by a long shot, I have seen many things.  And yet I am troubled.  My wife is in some pain dear sirs but it's getting better for her lately, she has either two or three weeks left sirs, two or three weeks left. You can't imagine what this imprecision costs us, for there is a difference sirs, there is a difference, and in a week it will only be worse for us, for her, and in two weeks, well, we shall see then, won't we?  We shall see.  Where is my sent off for object?  For I must warn you, sirs, if it doesn't come soon I will demand a complete refund, a complete and total refund, it is within my rights.  This waiting is intolerable but I don't blame you, there is no one to blame, only please, dear sirs, if possible, I would appreciate your swift attention to this matter.  I am writing now for some relief.  As always, I am. 

Daniel Wallace is best known for his 1998 novel, Big Fish, which was later adapted into a film by Tim Burton. Mr. Wallace's other novels include Ray in Reverse, The Watermelon King, and his latest, Mr Sebastion and the Negro Magician. In additon to being a novelist, his short stories and illustrations have been featured in numerous publications all around the world. He is also the J. Ross MacDonald Distinguished Professor of English at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Born and raised in Birmingham, Alabama, he now resides with his family in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.

Story © 1988, Daniel Wallace. Illustration © 2008, Daniel Wallace. "The Difference" originally appeared in The Quarterly.