You first call your Uncle Martin

“He just wrote the email a few minutes ago, he’s got to be available,” you think frantically to yourself and vid call him from your terminal.

After what feels like an eternity he picks up.

“How ya doin boy, hows my favorite nephew these days. I bet your still knee deep in college pussy ain’t ya!”

You and your uncle are cool enough, now, but he seems a little too friendly. He’s always been rough around the edges, thats partially why you liked him as a kid, but Uncle Martin was a hustler through and through.

“Hi Martin,” you respond with a good natured laugh, “I’m doing alright, maybe not knee deep but I get my pinkie toe wet time to time.”

“Ha Ha!” He exclaimed, sounding like Rick James, “That’s what I like to hear from you boy! I’m figuring you hit me up because of my email. You opened the package yet?”

“No, that’s the problem and why I called. This weird old ass robot showed up, said it was from the United States Postal Service, I’ve only heard those words in history class. I thought it was a scam so I turned him away.”

Uncle Martin’s tone went from jovial to murderous in a split second, “Boy, if you don’t run after that robot and get that box right now, ha, your not too old to get beaten like your one of my children”

If his tone wasn’t so deadly serious you would have laughed it off as Uncle Martin being Uncle Martin but his attitude multiplied the anxiety that was already reaching a boiling point.

“What the hell is in that box? How was I supposed to know?” You stammer in defense of your reckless actions.

“I’m not saying another word until you get that damn box,” growls your uncle, ”Call me back when you do and we’ll meet, this ain’t just about you boy.” He hangs up in your face...

You need to find that box and fast. It’s been too long to chase after the robot on foot, you’ll have to find out where the United State’s Postal Service office is located and hope you can retrieve the package.