The Gentle Deception

neill summers

It began the day that Kip opened his mailbox to find a letter and a package addressed to him but as Reverend Arthur Baumgartner. "Didn't know you wore a backward collar," teased the postal clerk as the young man walked out without a backward glance.

When Kip reached home, he opened the letter first which explained what was in the package and why this book had not been included in the shipment from the church publishing house. It was signed by a member of the editorial staff, a Mr. Randolph Swanson. Suddenly the new title seemed funny to Kip, and the longer he thought about it, the more he grinned with an idea. His dark eyes twinkled as he seated himself before his typewriter with a sheet of paper in hand. Two can play also at the game, he decided, and started hammering the words out.

My dear Mrs. Swanson,

When final shipment is made of my entire order, send it to MISTER Arthur (Kip) Baumgartner, not to his Reverend Lordship. Postoffices in small towns examine everything; simply everyone knows about everyone. It would seem as I asked for my package, they were waiting for my papal blessing!

I've received ads to Mrs. Arthur B. That gets me razzings too, 'cause I've been an eligible bachelor for ten years, and all the maids over thirty bake cakes, say rosaries for me, trap me into basket socials, and look at me when they catch bridal bouquets, sighing 'I do,' if I unregardingly sit by them at concerts or in pew. While stained-glass sunlight seems to enhance my curly eyelashes and black wavy hair, quite the contrary, I am able to see more clearly on them the ocean of fuzz on their upper lips; skin aging from lack of hormones; liquid glances from their eyes which seem to chorus: "Gather rosebuds while ye may," or "Abandon cold virginity." But I'm impervious to their arrowed advances. Women are, alas, lovely decorative pieces, but I never wanted a piece. Just peace. Know what I mean? Probably not; you've got cribs of young'uns at your home sweet home. Pity! that herd instinct makes a dull majority. Do you think the Beatniks have a chance?

I went to our church college in Minnesota last year. How can you stand a country that's so flat? Come smell my mountain streams and hike to the summits and gaze on sunsets and sunrises unparalleled.

Good luck in all your typing adventures . . . and errors. Les erreurs n'est pas de riguerur!

Sincerely,

Arthur (Kip) Baumgartner

A week later Kip received a light-hearted reply from Mr. Swanson who signed himself as Randy.

yours received on Monday morning. I don't know when in a year of just existing I laughed so uproariously at anything, or felt such a keen uplift on a day I expected to be like the others.... I'll bet you're a delight to know in person. I bet I'd be forever entertained.. you sound