“I am Robbie Stockson, the mailman for Ballard, California. I am honored that I have been elected as Santa Barbara County’s mailman of the year. As you know, ‘neither snow nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.’ Thank you.”
The room erupted with applause as I returned to my seat. The rest of the evening was calm, only interrupted by the occasional postmaster bickering over proper package wrapping, or stamp placement.
When I returned to work the next day, I walked through the back door as always. My hand reached around the corner to my right and felt around by Braille. When my fingers finally stumbled upon the switch, I flicked it upward. The lights flashed on and I was mobbed. The rest of the mail staff from Ballard cried out, “Congratulations! We knew you would win!” I was aggressively pushed by my shoulders onto a rolling office chair as they shoved a comically large pair of sunglasses onto my face, pink fuzzy flip flops onto my socked feet, throwing my shoes across the room. They topped it off by adding a red and white polka dot bowtie around my neck and a cheesy dollar store crown on my head. They stuck an ‘I’m #1’ pin on my shirt pocket, and chanted, “For he’s a jolly good mailman, for he’s a jolly good mailman, for he’s a jolly good mailman...Which nobody can deny!”
“Thanks guys,” I replied, the huge sunglasses falling off my face and to the floor as I stood up.
Just then the mail arrived in large white USPS crates. I loaded up my sack, put my regular shoes back on, then marched out the door.
My body was plagued with dread as I approached the first house on my route. The kids at this house hated me for no apparent reason. Cautiously, I crept under the large oak tree which extends out over their mailbox. I watched in every direction, ready for ambush. Just when I was clear of attack, one hand reached into my bag and the other out to open the mailbox. The small metal door screeched open and toothpaste shot out, splattering my uniform. Wiping the goo off my shirt, I felt as if I was being watched. My eyes darted around, trying to find the culprit behind this pasty attack. After looking in every direction, I glanced up to see a small boy in a yellow shirt laughing maniacally. He looked at me with a devious glimmer in his eyes, and hollered, “My name is Elijah Sullivan, you deliver my mail, prepare to die!” Then out of nowhere I found myself staring down the yellow plastic barrel of a super soaker. As he fired at me, I quickly realized it was filled with magenta paint. I stuffed the letters in the box and ran down the street.
I finished my route without a hitch. At the end of my route as I crossed Elm Street on my way back to the post office, I reached into the bottom of my bag to make sure all the letters had been delivered. My fingers wandered upon one last small white envelope enclosed in a Ziploc bag. Holding the letter up to the sunlight to illuminate the worn writing, I looked closely at the address. My jaw dropped when I saw that  it was addressed to the Lost City of Atlantis.
I ran back to the post office, changed my uniform, and ran out the door with the letter. Hurriedly, I left a sticky note on the scanner that said, “I’m delivering a letter to Atlantis. Wish me luck! -Robbie”
  I ran and got into my muddy green Jeep. Pressing the pedal to the floor, I burned out my tires in the gravel drive. Throwing my car into drive, I hammered down on the gas, flying down the highway.
As my exit to the marina grew near, a large thud erupted from underneath my car. The Jeep suddenly began to pull to the right. Slamming on the brakes, I spun the steering wheel and drifted off of the shoulder of the road. A bit shaken, I staggered out of my car to examine to damage.
I walked around my car and found my driver side rear tire flat and useless.
Desperate for an explanation, I scoured the side of the road for the cause of my flattened tire. I found a splintered baseball bat. It had broken when I ran it over and a large shard had impaled my tire.
I dug in my back seat and pulled out my spare tire, jack, and star wrench. Changing the tire as quickly as possible, I jumped back into the car and rushed to the marina. A group of marines met me in the parking lot and escorted me to the dock. Filled with nervousness, I climbed aboard a small military vessel and they took me out to an aircraft carrier.
I pulled on my scuba suit on and bailed off into the water. When I had just gone under the water  the radio in my helmet garbled out, “We have a slight problem. We forgot that Atlantis is in  the Atlantic!”
“What, the Atlantic?” I bellowed through my headset.
“Yes sir,” responded the Captain through the earphones, “Come on up.”
Disgusted with the misnavigation, I swam back toward the surface. As I broke through the water I was pulled out by a cable attached to a harness. “Sorry for the trouble,” the captain responded, “but we can fly you to Spain, where Atlantis really is.”
“Thank you sir,” I replied, “That would be much appreciated.”
They loaded me onto a HC-130J Super Hercules and sent me directly to Spain.
Upon my arrival I was loaded onto another ship and taken out to another location. “This is where Atlantis is supposed to be, good luck.”
With that, I was thrown overboard into the warm Atlantic waters. I swam down following the small waterproof GPS I was given. Never before had I gotten to swim with hundreds of colorful fish, and even an eagle ray. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fish looking creature that I could have sworn was a mermaid. Filled with curiosity, I followed her. She swam through a tunnel and into a large fishbowl looking structure.
As I entered the structure I was ambushed by a swarm of merpeople. Wrapping my body with large oceanic vines, the merpeople yelled words I could not quite make out to each other. They drug me into a large laboratory. I was untied and approached by a menacing looking old merman.
“Welcome to Atlantis,” he said warmly. “Why have you come here?” his voice was now gruff and unfriendly.
“I am a mailman from Ballard, California. I was given a letter addressed to Atlantis. I took it upon myself to deliver it. May I ask, how you survive here?”
“Certainly,” he proclaimed. “My name is Dr. Howard McHewin. I took these people into a genetic modification program and they all agreed to be subjects. The experiment was successful. We have rebuilt and lived in the ruins of Atlantis for nearly five years now. May I see this letter?”
“Yes, o-of course Dr. McHewin,” the words stumbled out of my mouth as I fumbled around with the letter in my pocket, handing it over to the doctor. He pulled the flap open on the envelope and slipped out the cream colored paper. He unfolded the page and read the words, mumbling under his breath. He repeated the words aloud, “Dr. McHewin, you have been given the great honor of being named the founder of the eighth wonder of the world, along with the courier of this letter. Congratulations! If you wish to accept, meet at 1095 Mitton St. Worcestershire, England on December 21. Please RSVP to the return address. Hope to hear from you soon. Sincerely yours, Sir Arthur Grastorff.”
“Wow, what an honor,” I stammered.
“Yes, but I do not wish to disclose the location of Atlantis. I wouldn’t want the tourists flooding in. I don’t want this place to be crowded and overrun, like Yellowstone” he moaned.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be,” the doctor gave me a questioning look, “I have a plan.” I replied drumming my fingers on my chin.
“Anything to keep my dear Atlantis safe.” Dr. McHewin stated with a look of hope in his eye.
Just then, the same mermaid I had followed swam up to the doctor. “Hi, Daddy!” she beamed. Suddenly lost in a daydream, my mind went wild at the sight of the beautiful mermaid. What a lovely girl, she is so beautiful and delicate, yet strong and determined. Her blonde hair rippled in the water behind her as she swam.
Dr. McHewin must have seen me staring at his gorgeous daughter because he pulled me out of this trance boasting, “This is my daughter, Marlena.”
“Hi,” I managed to utter, “I’m Robbie.”
“Hello,” she replied with a radiant grin.
“Robbie here was just about to tell me his plan for keeping Atlantis a secret,” the doctor gently pulled his daughter into a hug.
“Yes, as I was saying, I will deliver my final letter next Tuesday. I will take the letter you were sent to Sir Grastorff , and tell him we were unable to locate the address on the letter. We will make the world believe that Atlantis is still lost. I will return and live here with you and your people to ensure that the location of Atlantis is never revealed.” I boasted feeling rather proud of my plan.
“It is genius!” the doctor marveled.
“I will leave tomorrow,” I proclaimed. “Do you have a place I can sleep?”
“Yes, of course. Marlena, show him to the air room,” the doctor ordered.
“Yes, Daddy!” She said taking my hand and dragging me along. She pulled me into an elevator and we went up three levels. We exited the elevator and went into a chamber. The door closed behind us and the water drained out of the room.
“How are you going to live without water, aren’t you like... a fish?” I questioned, scared for her safety.
“Easy, my daddy is very smart. When he engineered us he made it so we could breathe on land and under water.” Marlena giggled as if that were something everyone knew.
“Oh, well thank you for the escort, I hope to get to know you better,” I said blushing.
“Me too,” Marlena cried, throwing her arms around my neck. She then released me and slid back into the chamber and out of sight.
I woke up the next morning, pulled on my scuba suit, grabbed the letter sliding it into the waterproof pocket in my suit, and left Atlantis.
Determined to complete my mission, I paddled my way back to the surface and flagged down a small fishing boat. I climbed on board and they took me back to the mainland.
The crew and people on the dock were very confused when I flopped out of the boat in full scuba garb. Quickly, I made up a tale that I was diving when a storm blew in and I drifted away from my own boat and these people were nice enough to give me a ride back.
From there I took a bus to Nancy, France. There I met a man with a horse and buggy who was kind enough to take me as far as Antwerp, Belgium. I then took a cab to the coast and a ferry to England. Renting a bicycle, I pedaled to Worcestershire.
Upon my arrival at the mansion on Mitton St. I knocked on the massive oak door and a large man in a black suit and bow tie answered. “May I help you?” he questioned.
“Yes, can you deliver this letter to Sir Grastorff. Tell him we are sorry, but we could not find Atlantis,” I murmured.
“It will be my pleasure sir,” the man replied and shut the door in my face.
Wandering through some cobblestone streets, I found my way to the nearest airport, then boarded a flight to La Coruna, Spain. Once more I donned my scuba gear and took the plunge.
Locating the tunnel again, I made my way back to Atlantis. The moment I returned, I was welcomed by a parade and taken directly to the lab for my first mutative vaccination. As the needle broke the skin I felt a strange twinge, I looked down and noticed my toes were now webbed. I was informed that I could now breathe without my suit.
Marlena came and visited me everyday during my vaccinations. The more we talked, I grew more and more fond of Marlena. Then finally, after two weeks in the hospital I was discharged. I was full merman now.
I went directly to see Dr. McHewin. “I need to speak to you sir.” I mumbled.
“Yes, I see your vaccinations went well,” he observed. “My daughter speaks very highly of you.”
“Yes sir, that is what I wanted to talk about,” I stumbled over my words.
“Well then...Speak.”
“I want to marry her.” I spoke as if I were dying and this was my last wish.
“I’m not going to stop you, I trust you very much and could never live with myself seeing my daughter as disappointed as she would be if I refused,” the doctor said with a chuckle.
“Thank you, sir.” I replied returning the grin.
Immediately I rushed to find a ring to give to Marlena. I found a real beauty at a small jewelry shop. It was placed in a box made of woven seaweed and put it in my pocket it in my pocket.
Swimming around Atlantis, I found Marlena lying on a sand bar and asked her to dinner. She gladly accepted.
I met her at her house and took her to a sight of old ruins her father told me she loved. We swam in and I set out a picnic dinner on a large bolder. There was a basket of her favorite rolls. She picked one up and beneath it was the ring box. Her hands shot to her mouth. Her eyes began to water. I picked up the box and slid in close to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. My other hand fumbled around with the ring box.
I felt as if angels were singing as I spoke to Marlena, “Marlena, you are very special to me, and I really hope you feel the same. I only have one question for you,” I took a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”
Sobbing, she threw her arms around my neck, and through the flood of joyful tears cried, “Yes, yes I will marry you!” I embraced her in a warm hug, and suddenly, I felt right at home.