THE RETURN OF MR. OKTOBER.

I had seen the brown UPS van driving through my neighborhood yesterday, and it struck me as odd.

DHL, TNT and Federal Express are common sights around here. But I hadn’t seen a UPS van for at least a year.

“Whatever!” I muttered to myself, and went back to my desk to resume the crucial task at hand—trying to hang hoop-earrings on a COCONUT.

Then the doorbell rang.

I ran downstairs, opened the door and found myself face-to-face with man dressed from head to toe in brown polyester. He was holding a very large, very well-wrapped cardboard box.

“Package for Mr. Fat Sal.”

I signed for the package, took it from the UPS guy and looked at the mailing label. It was postmarked, “Copenhagen, Denmark.”

“Copenhagen?!” I thought to myself. “Copenhagen? Copenh...HEY!!! Isn’t it almost the month of...!!!”

I spun ‘round on my heel, ran into the house, tossed the package on the kitchen island and grabbed the nearest knife.

I sliced through the packing tape, peeled open the boxtop and parted the bubble wrap.

There they were! Just as I had hoped. Two 0.5 liter bottles of Paulaner Oktoberfest Beer and a note that said the following:
”INSERTING INTO MOUTH MAY CAUSE INJURY OR DEATH.”

Thank you, Anders...on what is happily becoming an annual event. You’re the best Viking friend a guy could ever have.

And Happy Oktoberfest to all.