Today, we received a suspicious package in the mail. It was a bumpy letter that was returned to us for additional postage.

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The letter was addressed to "Frothy Mix" at "1680 Fruitville Rd" in Sarasota, Florida, but it came to The Stranger because our return address—with no name—was in the upper lefthand corner. Confusing! First of all: We have our own stationary. Second of all: Nobody who works here has that kind of loopy, teenage girl handwriting. Third of all: We use a postage machine, so the pine cone postage stamp—while a welcome reminder of the official flower of my home state—probably didn't come from our offices, either. All those suspicions amounted to one thing: Time to call in The Stranger Bomb Squad.

Intrepid security expert Megan Seling donned The Official Stranger Bomb Squad blast-proof gloves™:

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And immediately set to work:

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"It feels like it might have a needle in it," Megan said as she started in on the package. We held our breath as the final bit of glue on the envelope gave way. Was this a biological weapon of some kind? A calcified turd?

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Nope. It was a tampon. No note. Just an unused tampon, still in its packaging.

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And now there's nothing left but questions. Was this a Christian who thought reverse-sending a tampon to Stranger headquarters was the worst kind of insult? Did someone think they were helping The Stranger by sending this to Rick Santorum's Sarasota campaign headquarters? (Turns out, they really are based on Fruitville Road.) Was someone trying to frame The Stranger by pretending to send this tampon from our address? Or was it a misfire from some helpful people trying to contribute to the "Rick Santorum needs a uterus of his very own" campaign? And, most importantly of all, why does it cost so goddamned much to send a single tampon through the U.S. Mail? The world will never know the answer to any of these questions. The end.