Finding This Ticket
on the sidewalk one sunny day, the imperative message on its surface drove poor Quizro
nearly mad; clearly someone had drop
ped it there but seemingly in defiance of its instructions - surely the pavement wasn't the proper
place... in what topsy-turvy world could tickets permit the entrance to and use of a sidewalk?!
He pocketed it and after scrutinizing it in vain for clues (serial number 24318XX, back asking for Name, Address and Phone No., asserting that it was Printed in the U.S.A.) he carefully set it aside (making sure not to inadvertently drop it in the process) until an epiphany as to its proper destination hit him over the head.
Of course! Its proper destination was in an envelope to someone else! Who else? That was not so important. He inquired in the chatterbox as to who would be interested in receiving unspecified materials from him (I seem to recall that the exact word used was "junk" or "trash") and, Fate channeling through my fingers, I greedily clamoured for something.
It all came together! Clearly the proper place for the ticket was in the post to me - and like other crucial missives, communications and exchanges of vital objects such as the Process, Formula X-15, the microfiche and other such McGuffins, it soon became clear that I was indeed the proper target as malign and mendacious forces were aligning to impede my reception of the seemingly-innocuous slip of red paper and drop it somewhere thoroughly less-proper.
And though it passed the detection of spies and hostile agents, it seemed as though it might never reach its Proper Place as the envelope containing the essential Ticket (and nothing else) was "accidentally" mangled by machinery along the postal delivery process. The forces of evil were never so close to triumph as that infernal moment, but like Lamont Cranston, our side has friends and influence in strange and diverse places who step in to intervene when things appear to be at their worst.
Yes, when it seemed that the situation was lost forever, our loyal ally SENIOR PLANT MANAGER, UNITED STATES POSTAL SERVICE, PROCESSING AND DISTRIBUTION FACILITY, 11251 RANCHO CARMEL DRIVE SAN DIEGO, CA emerged from the shadows to retrieve the envelope and its star-crossed contents, gently nursing them back to a state approaching two-dimensionality and easing them into a protective plastic baggie which would serve it well throughout the rest of its tumultuous journey. The ticket did ultimately reach me, its subsequent Proper Place, but didn't survive the incident unscathed - a corner of the ticket, where it had been lodged in the corner of the envelope, was sheared clean off in the insidious sabotage attempt, and though its reception was ultimately realised, we may never find out how its serial number originally ended.
With this stub now in my possession, growing aware of its sordid past and enigmatic nature, we established a disturbing quandary; though the proper place for Quizro to drop it was in an envelope to me, surely my following the persisting instructions printed on its surface couldn't be done in the same manner as his, me sending it to myself over and over again, staving off the curse of improperly dropping it through a life-support system of stamps.
Oh no. For every time it reaches the Proper Place, the recipient's propriety shifts in subtle and subjective ways, necessitating its subsequent Dropping in a new place, proper for the ticket and also for its new dropper.
So back in the mail it goes, on its proper way to one of you proper folks. Upon its Proper reception, update us and share with this node tales of its journeys and travels, sending it ever onwards, a paper Wandering Jew, in search of a hazy Proper final destination somewhere down the line.