Page 25
- O fair Maywood, thine streets I spy
- And happ'n upon a truck of mail.
- O fortune, speed me in mine enterprise
- And with a mail cart find salvation.
- Into the bowels of Higgins' Realm
- Darken'd hallways impede my flight.
- Damn'd cart! Damn'd cart! Thou
- Odors reek of Bon Appetit!
- Opal light that blindeth mine eyes
- Wherefore?
- 'Tis the den of postage!
- O, woe is me, a foolish wretch
- My path is blurred with indecision.
- To hide or not to hide?
- That is an option.
- Whether 'tis nobler in the mail room
- To created debauchery in means
- Of false mail slips.
- To think. To dream.
- To figure a way out of this wicked scheme!
- If you want to hide in the cart, turn to Page 38.
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- If you fill out fake package slips for people, turn to Page 31.