Author's Note: True story, cats.

Fandom: Resident Evil
Genre: General/Bizarre, if it exists/Humor
Characters: Leon played opposite by the Delivery Man, supported by Sherry and Carlos
Pairings: None implied, but Leon and Jill are together
Summary: When the US Postal Service makes it's rare mistakes, it's not cool. Sometimes, though, it makes for interesting stories.

Stamps
By: Mazzie May

As Leon came down the stairs, a deliver man in blue approached him, probably a US mail guy. He was tall, six and a half foot plus and bald with a scraggly beard hanging off his chin and Leon was reminded of the Ganados chief.

"Excuse me," he said. Wow, his voice was deep. "Do you know who this person is?" One his huge hands pointed to a clipboard. Leon leaned forward, pretending to not be intimidated, finding the name above the man's finger. He stepped back, releasing the breath he'd been holding.

"Yeah, he's me," Leon said, putting his hands in his pockets. What was this about? Hopefully nothing to important. Jill pulled one of her many disappearing acts and Lily needed to be picked up from school.

The postal man blinked, more-than-likely surprised by Leon's lack of reaction to his size. "Oh, well," he turned his massive self and pointed to a stack of boxes. Sixteen in all, Leon recognized them. "Those boxes of yours can't be delivered."

Leon raised an eyebrow still looking at the stack. "Why not?"

"Because all US mail must be delivered from US soil."

Leon stopped and turned back slowly. His voice held all his bewilderment in it as he asked, "…Isn't… isn't here US soil…?" Because maybe it wasn't. Maybe he was actually in Fiji and he just forgot. Just because he could clearly see the Washington Monument didn't mean…

The mammoth man tsk'd and scowled, and it made Leon feel a little nervous as he made an "x" mark on something on the clipboard, which looked remarkably small in his hands. "I don't need an attitude, Mr. Kennedy."

"I'm not giving you an attitude," Leon reassured politely, removing his left hand from the snug pocket. "I was just checking, because—" He pointed catty-corner and the colossus followed his gaze. "I mailed everything from that blue box, the mail box."

"Well, if you did," the man said, looking down at him. Good Christ, he's gargantuan Leon thought, tilting his head all the way back to make eye contact. "We wouldn't be having this conversation. Sign on the 'x', please." He handed the clipboard to Leon.

Leon took it wearily, still completely confused. "What do you think I did, drove up the Canada and sent the packages out?" He found the line he needed to sign. "'Screw US postal! I'll mail anywhere I damn well please!'…" It was mostly a joke, but it held his point. He signed before handing it and the pen back.

The Jolly Green Giant of delivery men only sighed, taking the clipboard. "Sir, please."

"You've gotta understand how I see this," Leon tried, laughing a little in disbelief. "At the border, they ask me what I'm coming in for and I only laugh manically," Leon continued, both hands stuffed back in his jacket pockets. "Went down to Mexico and came back on a donkey…" He was staring off at the boxes.

"Sir." Leon turned back, looking irritated and bored.

"What?"

"I will not be heckled." It was a statement accompanied by a bottomless pit voice from a immensely sized man.

"I believe you," Leon muttered, adding in his defense, "And I'm not heckling." He shrugged. "I just think it's a lot more likely that somebody screwed up."

"Oh, that's so typical," the delivery man rolled his eyes. "Everyone blames the Post Office."

Leon spread his arms out in a wide shrug. "It's a lot easier blaming you than it is to assume I went down to Mexico and rode back on a donkey!"

The large man crossed his arms. "Mistakes happen, it's true."

Leon snorted. "I'll tell you what doesn't happen: me ridding donkeys."

"I understand that, sir."

"Then take these and send them?" Leon crossed his arms, too, thought it looked threatening and settled for folding them.

The man shook his head. "I can't, I only deliver. They have to be resent."

Leon stepped over to the stack and picked one up. "So, I'll just put them back in the mailbox."

"No, the stamps have been marked." A meaty digit pointed to the upper right hand corner of the package Leon was holding. "You'll need to repackage them."

"Wait, wait." He set the parcel down. "Because the stamps have been stamped I can't send them?"

"Not as they are now, no."

"…what?"

--

Later, with Lily home and Jill no longer MIA, the boxes were divided into fours--Leon got four, Sherry got four, Jill got four and Lilly got four (Carlos ate things in the kitchen)—and then torn open, the contents removed and were currently being placed in other boxes, Leon recalling the tail.

"It's like they saw I had sixteen boxes and went, 'Oh, fuck this guy'," he finished, tapping his last box closed.

Sherry was wrapping up her third. "It's all a conspiracy to get you to buy more stamps."

"No doubt," Carlos added from the kitchen, leaning on the wall-window's sill, an open box of Cheezit's next to him. Leon and Sherry glared.

"Don't let Chris hear you say that," Sherry warned, filling up her final box. "Claire has enough problems, no need to add to them."

Jill was the first to finish, her four boxes stacked nicely next to her side of the coach. She was now helping Lily, who was just on her second, when she looked up. "What do you mean?"

Leon snatched the Cheezit's from Carlos and looked over at her. "Oh, man, you didn't hear?"

She tilted her head a smidge and Carlos asked, "What?" with a sulky tone, his Cheezti's stolen.

"You know how he won't drink tap water?" Sherry asked. Jill only looked at her and Carlos nodded as Leon held the snack just out of his reach. Sherry ignored them. "Well, ever since that rumor that DeSani puts salt in their water to keep you thirsty and make you buy more, Chris has been ordering this crazy black market water," she explained, her tongue sticking out a little as she fought to put the tape on straight. "Claire says it doesn't taste bad, but it's expensive and just obtaining a couple bottles is like running the gauntlet."

"Oh, man," Carlos said, having retrieved the cheesy goodness. "That sucks."

"Fricken A, where are the stamps?" Leon was searching through the credenza. "Sherry?" he called over his shoulder.

She was struggling to get her hand untangled from the boxing tape and didn't look up. "I think we used them all."

"Crap…" he breathed slamming a drawer closed.

"Told you it was to get you to by more stamps."

Author's Note: I already said this, but this is a true story. Happened to my Dad the eve of New Year's Eve. I was standing in the door way the whole time. The role of Daddy is played by Leon and the part of Brain was the Delivery Man. The comment about conspiracies by Sherry is mine. This isn't necessarily funny, just plain weird.

R&R please, any commentary appreciated.