Transcript of conversation today with my dad when he called from the post office

(My dad is a retired CPA who does my taxes and bookkeeping. He checks the Hardcore Husky PO Box a couple times a week.)

Stalin: Hello?
Dad: Hello son, this is your father.
Stalin: Hello papa.
Dad: I'm calling from the Port Orchard post office.
Stalin: Okay? What's up?
Dad: Were you expecting some strange sort of package at the PO box?
Stalin: Uhhh, not offhand. Why?
Dad: You received a very strange package. It's quite heavy. It's addressed to you.
Stalin: I have no idea what that might be.
Dad: The handwriting on the box is hard to read. But it appears to be from someone in Wisconsin. Do you know anyone in Wisconsin?
Stalin: Oh no. I don't know anyone in Wisconsin that I know of. This could be anything. Is the box ticking?
Dad: The box is not ticking.
Stalin: Well this is weird.
Dad: I'll save it for you for when we next have lunch.
Stalin: As long as its not ticking, go ahead and open it. Wait, isn't there a name?
Dad: Well let's see. It is from someone named Owen Twelve? The return address says 7 and 6 Sarkisian Lane. The city is Gilbyham, Wisconsin?
Stalin: LOL... Okay, these are all inside jokes, so it is definitely intended for me. So I don't have any idea what this is.
Dad: The box is quite heavy. They paid $20 in postage to mail it.
Stalin: Well go ahead and open it.
Dad: ... This is taking some time to open.
Stalin: I hear you.
Dad: Okay... Inside the box is a large bag of coffee grounds. That's all there is. There is no note.
Stalin: What the hell? Is there anything inside the coffee grounds?
Dad: That will take me a minute to get into. Hang on.
Stalin: What the hell is going on here? There's no note. What idiot from Hardcore Husky would send me this?
Dad: You have no idea?
Stalin: There are lots of idiots on Hardcore Husky, dad.
Dad: I see. The box has a tracking number.
Stalin: Please read it off to me.
Dad: (Gives tracking number)
Stalin: {looks it up online}. Okay, this came from [redacted], California. Hmmm.
Dad: I'm still trying to get into the bag.
Stalin: Who would .... Oh, okay! I think I might know who this is.
Dad: You do?
Stalin: We have a retard Cal Bear fan who was threatening to donate with lots of spare change. That would make sense.
Dad: Still trying to get into the package without spilling coffee grounds everywhere.
Stalin: Roger that.
Dad: This is quite heavy.
Stalin: Hmmm, okay.
Dad: Okay, here we go.... Let's see here...
Stalin: What is it?
Dad: Yes, there are dimes. My goodness. Hundreds and hundreds of dimes.
Stalin: LOL... That fucker!
Dad: I will deposit these into the account and then let you know the total.