"Sign here, please."

It was another average evening in Middleburg, yet another boring adventureless day. Though, in all honesty, Rippen was used to the death of excitement in his life. He had dreams once- hopes and aspirations. Whatever you wanted to call them, he had long since buried them with his paints and canvases. For the past ten years he had done the same boring routine: wake up, shower, get dressed, eat his half-a-slice of grapefruit, and head off to work where he would go down the same delivery route he did every single day. Rippen never questioned about the lives of the people he met, or what no-doubt horrid things were being sent to them. The moment the packages were out of his responsibility he no longer cared.

Though, to be honest, he hardly cared even before then.

Rippen rolled his eyes as the petite woman at the door handed over the signed pad- still dressed in her hair curlers, at this hour? Had she no shame? Sure, the package handler didn't feel much better in his uniform- his purple top far too snug around his exposed arms, while his black pleated shorts were too airy and roomy- but at least Rippen prided himself in looking presentable. He was always tucked in, his collar always straightened. He may have hated his job, but darned if he wasn't going to look good doing it.

"Thank you, ma'am," Rippen said with a deadpan voice, just going through the motions. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Once back to his truck, the goblin-esque looking man sighed, leaning his head onto the steering wheel. OH, how he wouldn't have minded just staying like that for the rest of his life- never moving and practically becoming a living corpse. No more bills to worry about, no more feeling like his life was nothing but annoying mundania. No more constant reminders from his parents at just how much better his sister Vlurgen was doing, with her law firm taking in high end clients on a daily basis.

No more feeling like a second rate nobody, for that matter.

But those thoughts would have to wait for another time, as Rippen was ripped away from his introspection by the cackling of the truck's radio.

"Route 3-74, come in route 3-74."

"Yes yes, this is route 3-74." Rippen responded after snatching the mouth piece off of the dashboard. "Just finished the last delivery and shall be clocking out once I head back to base."

"Negatory."

The package handler shook his head in shock. Suppressing a growl, he nonetheless sneered as he pushed the button on the communicator to reply.

"'Negatory'? And just what is THAT supposed to mean? I'm finished, I'm done. There is nothing left to deliver." How much simpler could he say it?

"You're not delivering, you're picking up." Came the gruff response over the radio. "You're the closest to route 4-20, and you are needing to pick up a valued customer's shipment."

'Valued customer', Rippen knew what that really meant. It meant they were constantly receiving and sending packages- a big spender. The package handler sighed in aggravation, using his free hand to run through his skunk-like hair.

"What about Stephens? I know for a fact that's HIS route."

"Stephens is currently indisposed."

"Oh, what? Claiming to be sick again so he can run off with his woman of the week, is he?" It wouldn't have been the first time.

"He was in multi-collision accident."

Rippen sat there silently for a moment as he processed what he heard. Oh, well… that was a different matter entirely. Straightening himself in his seat, Rippen cleared his throat.

"R-right then. No way of faking that, I suppose. My apologies, Phil." A pause. "Now where did you say I was going, again?"

No wonder the company wanted to keep the guy around, if one were to go by the man's home alone… Then, well, he was a very loaded man. Rippen checked his clipboard again to make sure he had the right address. No, it was the right address. A large manor, long drive way and… was that a zoo? The gates opened as he drove nearer, no doubt his arrival had been expected.

Rippen found himself momentarily curious about the owner of the home, questioning just what sort of seediness must have occurred for a man to afford a place like that. Ties with the mob? Marrying to some rich woman? Arriving to the front of the home, three people were waiting for him. Two butlers- there was no way to mistake them for anything else- and a roly-poly of a man strumming his fingers on a package resting in his lap as he sat on the steps. He jumped to his feet as Rippen parked his truck, making sure to grab his clipboard.

"Yes, hello, is this the residence of a mister…" Rippen took a peek at his paper, where he had quickly written out the name and address. "Mr. Larry, is it?"

The man nodded his head excitedly.

"Yup, that's me! But just Larry, 'mister' was my FATHER. Except he wasn't a Larry, he was a Paul. HUH. But hey! Didn't know somebody new was coming, though! Is Stephens feeling unwell again?" Larry shook his head sadly. "Poor guy, that's the third time this week. He must REALLY not be feeling good. Do you think he likes chicken soup? Should I send him some? My momma always said chicken soup cures just about everything!"

Rippen looked at the customer with an unimpressed expression.

"I hardly think soup would do him much good. Now, about your package…"

"Oh, right. Here you go," Larry held out the box, and as Rippen stretched out to reach it he pulled back in surprise. The customer pointed to the other man's name tag on his uniform. "'Rippen'? What a nice name! I don't think I've EVER met a Rippen before. Now I've met Johns, heck, half my families are Johns. And Susans. But you don't look like a Susan. Or a John for that matter."

Larry went on like that for a while, going through a list of names that Rippen certainly did not look like. Rippen, meanwhile, had done his best to snatch at the package that he was meant to deliver, getting all the more frustrated as the short man kept thwarting him- always moving his box out of the way, unaware of what he was doing.

Finally Rippen had enough as he arched his back, throwing his head towards the sky and covering his eyes with his hands as he growled.

"ARE YOU QUITE FINISHED?!"

Larry, his mustache curled to match his everlasting smile, blinked a few times as he stared at the taller man. Rippen took that as a sign that, yes, he was done. The package handler took a deep breath, collecting himself to the best of his ability before speaking again.

"Good. Now, AGAIN, may I have your package?" Larry handed him the box as Rippen gave him the clipboard to sign. "Just sign the bottom, this is stating that I have received your package. Legal matters, I'm sure you know the routine."

"I sure do, big guy!"

Larry finished signing with a flourish before handing the board back to the delivery man. Rippen scowled at the little hearts around the man's signature. How revolting.

"Thank you," Rippen said, exasperated, as he shifted the box to his hip. "Your package should be shipped out by tomorrow. Enjoy your day."

The delivery man turned away, no longer wishing to look at the customer's face as he stomped back to his truck.

"Bye bye, Rippen. it was nice meeting you!" Larry called. "Next time you should totally come in for some hot chocolate!"

"Yeah, fat chance of that happening," Rippen mumbled to himself. He readjusted his mirror, where he saw the other man still waving at him. Rolling his eyes, Rippen drove off- ready to go home and call it a day.

"What an annoying little man. Thank HEAVENS I'll never have to see HIM again!"

Rippen had been wrong. So terribly wrong. Right after leaving Larry Manor, the abhorrent little elf had called up his supervisor- singing him praise. While a positive review wasn't usually a dreadful thing- in fact, it was the first time he had ever received one from a customer- it set into motion a series of events. Phil, his supervisor, had decided to give him a new route… the route where he would be seeing that Larry person every day. Rippen had tried to protest, but Phil wouldn't listen.

"Besides, somebody is needing to do it until we are finding replacement for Stephens."

The look that had followed told the goblin-esque man that he had no choice, if he was wanting to keep his job. And while just quitting then and there was OH so tempting, ultimately the desire to continue earning money won out. It was with the mental chant of 'paycheck' that Rippen, after a long day of going through his new route, made his way towards the last location on his list.

Where there was no doubt in his mind that HE would be waiting for him.

"I mean, pineapples are GREAT and all… But why would anybody go and put them on a pizza? You know what pineapples ARE good for? Cake. You can't go wrong with fruit and cake. But you CAN go wrong with fruit and fax machines. You ever try faxing a pineapple, Rippen?"

The delivery man, who had been standing there, arms full of three boxes of different sizes, sighed.

"No, Larry, I can't say I have."

"Well I have, and boooy, let me tell ya, it doesn't work. But it IS a fast way to crush a pineapple… as well as a fax machine, now that I think about it. It's okay, though, I eventually figured out that a shredder does a waaay better job."

"Why not just use a blender," Rippen asked, arching his unibrow curiously.

"Uh, then where else will I keep the egg shells?" Larry retorted.

Yes, of course, how foolish of him for asking. The egg shells, indeed. Not like people didn't throw those away, or at least put them in a glass jar for compost. Oh no, that would be a sensible thing. And as Rippen had learned in the past few months, Larry was anything but sensible.

"Yes, well, that all said… do you mind?" He nodded his head towards the packages, his arms starting to grow tired. Larry kept his eyes glued on the man's face, completely ignoring the boxes.

"Aw, of course I don't mind!" A pause. "What am I not minding, again?"

"WOULD SOMEBODY JUST TAKE THE PACKAGES ALREADY?!" Rippen hollered. Luckily for him, the lady butler of the house took it upon herself to relieve him. Good, at least somebody had sense around this madcap mansion. Once his arms were free, Rippen took the package that was in Larry's hand, not at all caring for niceties as he forcefully snatched it from his chubby little digits. "Now would you PLEASE just sign?"

"Noooo problem. THERE!"

The package handler was already leaving when he was stopped by the call of his name.

"Wait, Rippen! I almost forgot!" Larry ran up to him, surprising Rippen as he kissed the side of the box closest to him. "Phew! I almost forgot to give them a Larry kiss. They won't work if I don't officially ceal them with love, after all!"

Rippen looked down at the man with confusion.

"'Larry kiss'," he repeated with mild disgust. "Just… just what ARE you sending off, anyway?"

"The same thing I do every day, silly: healing hats!" Before Rippen could ask what those were, Larry continued. "See, every day after I get home from work I knit hats. Loads of them, so I can donate them to Middleburg Hospital. Many cancer patients lose hair from chemo therapy, and do you realize how cold you get without hair? Super! It's like missing a head blanket! SO! I make hats so they'll stay warm. I got the free time, and I love knitting, and it feels GOOD to let others know that people care for them."

Rippen was stunned.

"That's… actually very nice of you. I'm sure they appreciate it."

"I sure hope so!" Larry gasped, his face lighting up as an idea struck him. "Wait right here, sweetie, I'll be right back!"

The delivery man was tempted to just drive off- there was no reason for him to stick around after all. But, for whatever reason, Rippen found himself too curious to just up and leave. Putting the box of hats into the back of the truck, he leaned against the vehicle as he waited for Larry to return. As promised, the short man returned, but not empty handed.

"Alright, bend over." Rippen didn't get the chance to consider his options before he was yanked down by the excited customer. And before he could wonder what was happening, Larry tugged something over his head. "Aaaand there! It looks good on you!"

Rippen, in defiance, ripped off whatever had assaulted and RUINED his hairdo. He was about to yell at the nitwit, when he stopped as he realized what he was holding. It was a perfectly knitted purple and green hat.

"What in the world is this for," he asked the man, "I'm not sick."

"No, but no reason not to have one. It's supposed to be chilly tomorrow, and I can't be having my best buddy catching a cold!"

Rippen had to do a double take.

"'Best buddy'? You think we're friends?" Larry nodded his head innocently. Huh. What in the world had led him to believe THAT? Rippen had been nothing but rude to him. He knew it, surely Larry couldn't have been that oblivious. But as Rippen looked down at the hat, thumb trailing over the colorful material, he had to admit… the idea wasn't completely horrible.

"Hmm, well, yes. I suppose we are, in a way." He pocketed the hat. "Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving now."

Rippen was stopped by a tug on his shirt, completely pulling it out of place. The delivery man glared, as Larry looked up at him with big expectant eyes.

"I know I ask you every day, and you always say 'no', but…" Larry smiled wider, pleading. "How about some hot cocoa? It's mint flavor!" He finished with a lilt.

Rippen was silent as he thought it over. On one hand, he could barely tolerate the man's insistent prattling. And staying meant he would be willingly inviting Larry to continue when he despised it so. However… looking down at the elf of a man, Rippen felt his glower disappearing from his face- his will to resist fading away every additional second. What was he rushing home for? Once he returned he would just make dinner, numb himself with some piece of literature before falling asleep and starting his day all over again. What did he have to lose?

He didn't even say anything against it when he was dragged towards the front doors of the mansion.

"Alright, fine, but just this once. I don't want to make a habit of it."

Little did he know, evenings at Larry Manor would be a part of his life for many years to come.