Title: And Twice on Tuesdays
Fandom: Eerie, Indiana
Rating: G
Length: 448
Author notes: For challenge 254 "note" and the prompt "paper" from my bingo board. Inspired by a reference to Eerie's weird postal service made in The Roller Rink on the Edge of Forever by Deifire
Summary: In which Marshall has something he needs to mail and it’s a Tuesday and Simon’s nervousness makes a lot more sense when they get to the post office.

“All set,” Marshall says, affixing a stamp to the envelope in front of him. He turns in his chair and looks at Simon, who’s dusting the items in the evidence locker. “Wanna come to the Post Office with me?” he asks.

Simon, who’s been humming to himself while he works, stops. He stands sort of frozen for a moment then, slowly, shakes his head. “We should go tomorrow,” he says.

Mars, thinking maybe time got away from him, glances at his watch. “It’s still open,” he says, though he supposes they are closing soon… “We’ll be quick about it,” he says. “Syndi’s been on my case about writing to her and I really shouldn’t put it off any longer.”

Simon’s shoulders kind of slump and he lets out a breath. “Okay,” he says, setting the feather duster aside and turning to Marshall. “But this is a really bad idea.”

Marshall considers asking what he means, but he is in a hurry to mail this letter before Syndi tells their parents he hasn’t been keeping in touch (possibly an empty threat, but he doesn’t want to risk it) and he knows if he asks Simon to elaborate it’ll be something weird and then they’ll have to deal with it and he’ll forget to mail the letter and he’ll have to do this all over again tomorrow. So, he decides, he’ll investigate after.

*

Mars should have asked.

“What the?” He stares at the empty plot of land where the Post Office should be, as if he’s having a staring contest with the forces of weirdness. If he doesn’t blink, everything will go back to normal.

“It’s still there,” Simon says after a moment. “It’s just not here.”

“Simon, that doesn’t make sense.”

Simon shrugs. “It’s always like this. Every Tuesday and Thursday it phases into a different plane of reality for the beings that can’t enter ours,” he explains. “They need to get their mail, too.”

It makes a certain sort of sense in a way that it only can in Eerie, and Marshall sighs. “Guess I’ll mail this tomorrow, then,” he says, folding up his letter and tucking it into his pocket. “Wanna get milkshakes?”

Simon grins. “Race you!” he calls over his shoulder as he starts running, pelting down the sidewalk towards the World O’Stuff. Marshall laughs and follows at a brisk jog, mentally recording a journal entry on the Eerie Post Office.