Mr McFeeley's Love Delivery Service presents a tale of nosy, meddling romance that violates laws of man, God, and the United States Postal Service! Are those Chic Stone inks we see? I sure hope so.
Did these two young singles just find out they have to share a mailbox? I think they did! And... we're off! Romance in five, four, three, two...
Remember, this is the 50s, so you have to wear a suit and tie at all times, even when you're just going downstairs to check the mail. You never know when that girl you're stalking will show up!
So not only should you read her mail, it's important to casually toss it into her window - er, I mean, let the breeze blow it in her window - so you can just climb in after it. Go on! Trespassing, whatever. You've got stalking to take care of!
If breaking and entering doesn't win her heart, fill out lots of coupons with her address and then spend a casual afternoon sorting mail on the floor. That kind of single-minded dedication shows her you're really obsessed! Chicks dig that!
Now I have to admit, when a girl actually mails you a brush, that's pretty awesome.
Uh oh, my tie got caught in the door when I was just giving her these flowers because even though she made it clear she never wants to speak to me again I simply could not take no for an answer! Also I always wear a tie! How DO I get into these things?
Finally! A well-deserved ass-kicking!
If only I could believe you really meant that...
I know this dialog sounds creepy and wrong to modern readers, but there's a small part of me that thinks a grinning mailman winking about "packages" has always been kind of smutty.
"Yes, it's me, Abby! I've come to finish the job!" "Aieeee!" CRASH THUMP "Yaaaaaaa!" SMASH- what? It didn't really end that way? Damn.
Remember that Velvet Underground song that was just John Cale narrating a story of a lonely college undergrad who mailed himself across country to visit his girlfriend? Remember how it ended? Don't you kind of wish this story ended that way, instead of the crazy obsessed stalker getting rewarded for his creepy behavior? But no, our story ends with a delightful scene of Postmaster Meddler General here bathing us all in the aroma of his sweaty feet. Thanks, story.
Now you can buy Stupid Comics merchandise from the Mister Kitty Stupid Store, your One-Stop Stupid Shop!!
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