Originally published on Little Old Lady Comedy (Nov. 2018)
Hi, Edgar, it’s Lenore from Customer Service on a live chat line. How can I help you today?
Woeful child, you look like you’re trapped in that little bubble on this devilish blue screen. In any event, I had a most dreadful evening Tuesday last. It’s so sinfully simple to lose one’s bearings with all the laudanum delivered by cabriolet even at the witch’s hour. I was oh so weary, but also overcome with a feeling of agitation. When suddenly, I heard someone rapping at the door. It was that fellow again in a brown suit but no cravat or neckband with a package for me.
Yes, I see you’re an Amazon Prime member. That would be our next-day delivery in your Baltimore area. We’d like to thank you for your long-term commitment to us.
‘Twas a fright, you see, my dear Lenore. I was before that moment ‘in the zone’ so to speak, a spell cast o’er me as I dove deeply into some quaint and curious lore. (Hmm, rhymes with Lenore! She is quite lovely even though she’s the size of a beetle). But the rapping continued apace. I broke free to greet the harried gentleman, even offered him a sniffer of brandied eggnog, but he claimed to be behind on his nightly circuit.
How can I help you, Mr. Poe?
He handed me a parcel, affixed together with a sort of sticky bandaging. I reached for my brass letter opener and lo, inside was a stuffed black bird with a wicked visage. His carnelian eye probed my soul…but alas, I have no memory of ordering it. None.
I’m happy to help, Mr. Poe. I see that you placed the order at 11:59pm in late December.
This I do not recall though I have wrestled through the cobwebs of my memory.
It was order number 31456 for one 18-inch Covind from Widow’s Peak Novelty, Seekonk, Rhode Island.
This must be a mistake, Lenore, my dear sweet bug. (She is quite ravishing! I must set my pen to paper in tribute to her beauty. What else rhymes with Lenore?)
Let me see if I can arrange for a refund. We often find that people order things on Amazon in compromised states of mind and, when the package arrives, they don’t recall doing so. It’s very common among 19th Century poets and short story writers who specialize in horror, partake of opiates and wallow over dead girlfriends. Or anyone who’s just plain baked.
I can assure you that my consumption of alcohol and other substances are purely for medicinal and artistic purposes. My nerves o’ertake me oftentimes.
….Lenore is typing
Lenore? Lenore? Are you sure? (My inspiration soars as I gaze upon her miniature beauty. And what tender kindness she evokes in my battered soul.)
Yes, I’m here Mr. Poe.
As I now tap, tap, tap on this keyboard, I have but the slightest recollection. And, yes, perhaps I was in a strange state of mind and felt a pang of boredom strike my breast, as I googled, googled, googled through the 24-hour news cycle and refreshed, refreshed, refreshed my email messages and liked, liked, liked all of my fascinating Facebook friends’ exploits. And perhaps in those empty moments, I felt an odd inexplicable need to purchase something. Perhaps a black stuffed bird to lighten the dark dampness of my days. You see, Lenore, they said the bird was the “perfect silent companion for confirmed bachelors.”
Regardless, our policy allows you to return this item if you wish. Would you be able to print out a return slip and ship it back to us? Or would you like store credit?
Oh, Lenore, Lenore, you have struck me to the core. (A rhyme, but not quite what I was looking for).
We accept returns up to 60 days after your item’s receipt.
Nevermore! Nevermore! Wait, that’s it! The perfect rhyme.
So, you’ll be keeping the bird?
Yes and my eternal gratitude. Wait, I think I hear more rapping at the door. Another parcel. Something’s beating inside. Beating, beating, beating…ah, a Tell Tale Heart. This one I do remember ordering. Now back to work…..well, maybe I’ll browse your selection of quills and ink. I’m running low.
It’s been my pleasure, Mr. Poe. I hope you’ve been satisfied with our customer service. I just want to make sure I understand your intentions. You’ll be keeping the bird? Yes. The raven is mine. And for all my days, it will remind me of your eternal beauty. Please let me know when you’ll break free of your bubble.