Dear God Page #2

to earn the dollars out of which|you so blithely con them?

I implore you, take this opportunity|to use the innocent apple-pie face

and the fine mind|God has obviously given you,

for something better,|for something decent,

for all the people|whose trust you've crushed.

By the way, if you choose|not to work, you will go to jail.

So, which will it be?

OK, so, it's jail or...|What was the other one?

I hate the Post Office|during the holidays. It's a zoo!

I've been here an hour|to buy three stamps!

- I'm looking for Guy Turner.|- Behind the yellow line. Got to go.

I just have a question. I've walked|around here for 30 minutes...

You have to stand behind the line!

No, I'm not a yellow-liner.|I'm here...

I cannot help you till you stand|behind the yellow line!

- Next.|- I've dealt with your type before!

- I will speak to your supervisor!|- I almost had to help a customer!

I'm in Sorting. This is Monica. Bye.

- Hello, Monica.|- Hi.

I'm having an extraordinarily|crazy day. I need to find...

Behind the yellow line, please.

You're kidding, right?

- Listen to me!|- God! Postal police!

No. We don't need... Cousin Guy.

How much postage for this bike?

Cousin Guy, I really appreciate|you getting me this job.

The only reason I'm doing this|is cos of your mom, you know.

Before she went away,

I promised her I'd look after you.|So I got you in.

But if you screw up,|I don't know you. You got me?

- I got you.|- Meet your boss, Vladek Vidov.

Your cousin is very great man.

This is Barney machine.

Main conveyor belt|for sorting all mail.

Salute to modern technology.

You know why they call it Barney?

- Cos it's purple?|- You been here before?

- No.|- Yes, purple, like dinosaur,

but bigger than dinosaur.

Ramon! No, no, please!

Safety first. No, no. Don't.

Don't do this. Please.

Sit. Sit. "Descanso." Rest.

His first day as casual.|The guys told him that "fragile"

is postal for "throw hard|against wall and bounce into bin".

Mary, please, explain to Ramon|what means fragile.

OK. Who's that?

Tom. Mary and Wendy,|two of our best sorters.

- Right, we met upstairs.|- They read difficult handwriting.

- What did you mean by casual?|- A temp. Like you.

Which is why|you did not have to take exam,

which is a ball-buster,|pardon the expression.

We hire you for Christmas|then let you go.

I'm sure the posh environment here|has stimulated many a casual to ask,

"What if I wanted to stay longer?|Maybe a year?"

A year? We'll see.

This is your new home.

- The DLO.|- No way.

Yeah.

Everyone, this is Tom.

He's playing with channel changer,|not gun.

That's Claudio Gomez,|they call him Handsome.

And that's Dooly.|Don't call him anything.

Idris.

Rebecca.

Lucille.

So, please, let's give him warm|Dead Letter Office welcome. Come.

You know, I actually might...

Might be better off...

Vladek?

Coffee break!|New guy gotta watch the office.

- It's tradition.|- But I don't know how...

I'm on my break, sugar.

Come. This is your desk.

Idris, right?|I'm not really up on religion.

Is this purgatory or did I die|and go straight to hell?

Getting warm. This is the DLO,|the Dead Letter Office.

All these letters are hopeless, lost,|undeliverable, unreturnable.

We gather the dead, put them|in boxes, put the boxes in bins.

- Are you just on for the holidays?|- I'm two months from my 20th year.

Then I'm outta here, gone.

- 20 years?|- Yep.

I couldn't raise my family|as a musician.

Couldn't raise myself as a musician.

OK.

One year.

Piece of cake.

Bin A, if it's returnable,

which it never is, cos if Whispering|Wendy can't decipher the writing...

No one can. Bin B. Blurred. Smudged.

Torn or, excuse me,|just too cruddy.

Bin D, wrong address.

No return, wrong return. People who|don't know where they live. Pathetic.

Bin E. No state.

No clue, no hope for you.

Ready to try, new guy?

Yeah, sure. No problem.

Let's see... Bin D. Wrong address.

Negatory. Not just wrong, but Bin B.

Smudged and torn.

- God!|- Sugar, it's not that hard.

No. This is addressed to a Mr God.

Easy. He gets a lot. We put|all the "Dear God" mail over here.

In the loony bin.

Bin C.

Subdivided into loony bin boxes.|We got one for Superman, Elvis,

the Tooth Fairy,|the Easter Bunny and God.

And any kind of Martian.

All yours, new guy!

Now don't forget, Santa Claus|has his own bin over here.

Don't nod at me on your first day.

I gotta get to know you.

OK...

Just cos you live across the street|doesn't mean you can come and ogle.

- What's the new manager's name?|- Gloria McKinney.

She created great new recipes|for me.

Don't even think about it. You're not|imposing yourself on that girl.

One Banana Karenina coming up.

Morning, all.|Theo, one Colombian to go.

- Who's that?|- Joey's mine and Josh is his friend.

Joey, nice-Iooking... turkey,|Santa Claus-thing you got there.

- He hates Christmas in California.|- Why's that?

Well, Jersey has snow and everything.

OK, time to go. It's late. Joey, I'll|walk you to school. Get your coat.

Heard you got busted.

What? No.|That was this acting thing I did.

A crime re-enactment for TV.|A cable syndication thing.

I'm just a little curious.|Does anybody buy your BS?

Lately? No. But I did get|a job with the US Post Office.

Honest, I've been there a week.|Even bought new shoes. Look.

- Nice.|- Aren't those great?

I heard it was|the Post Office or jail.

- How does everybody know my life?|- Well, I knew about it.

- You know I work at the Post Office?|- Yeah. We heard.

All our friends in Indiana|know you work here.

Junior is afraid|you won't make enough to pay him.

Tell him to take a Prozac.|He can have my first paycheque.

Well, buddy,|we know where to find you.

- "Kirkland asleep?"|- "Out like a light."

I'm a much better actor|than those guys.

This guy can't act.

You ever read|these Dear God letters?

No. Me and God have an agreement.

I leave His mail,|He leaves my "Soap Opera Digest."

- Are you a postal cop?|- No.

"Dear God, we've gone on|rent strike at the Normandy Arms

but we still don't have running water|or hallway lights."

"Before the winter rains come,

I'd like to cover the broken window|in my boy's room with plastic

and somehow get hot water.|Thank you, Lord, for your help."

"Yours sincerely, Marguerite. 2F."

The eagle has landed!

- What've you got there?|- Nothing.

What the hell's going on here?|Is this a fire drill?

Excuse me. Hi. You mentioned|the eagle. Is that important?

It is to me. After I crashed|and burned as a lawyer,

I had to find|something less stressful.

What we workaholics, yes, my name|is Rebecca and I am a workaholic,

call a recovery job. I have|my serenity and I'm still able...

I'm still able to do pro bono work.

Excuse me. But what does it mean,|"The eagle has landed"?

That means it's pay day.

Whispering Wendy Smith.

Wendy Smith? No? We lost cheque.

You know, Whispering Wendy.

Hold on. Can't locate Smith? OK.

Dooly. Herman Dooly. Thank you.

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