Hapened?

Mr. Meyers has called my attention to the word "hapened."
(See above.) I looked it up. He is correct. "Hapened" is incorrectly spelled.
I apologize.
thank you.

What hapened to Mr. Meyers Yesterday

Yesterday, Mr. Meyers tells me, Mrs. Flynn, a neighbor, on her back porch again, and plastered again was throwing empties into his yard. Responding to knocking, and leaving Mrs. Flynn, Mr. Meyers discovered a U.P.S. woman at his front door, a large cardboard box in her arms. One side of the box, he noted, was perforated and on all other sides red labels informed that inside the box resided something alive. He signed, than inquired of the U.P.S. woman, saying something like, Dear Mrs., please understand, I have an uneven record with living things I allow entrance into my home. They die, he informed her, or worse, they linger. The U.P.S. woman appeared to be listening so he asked her if she might take the box around back and put it in the alley, where, explaining further, Mr. Meyers said that someone better suited to the care of living things eventually would pass and whatever resided in the box’s interior would be offered a better home and a longer life then he could provide. The U.P.S. woman told him slowly and carefully that she could not under any circumstance do as he requested then departed in the direction of her brown truck. Mr. Meyers told me that when he lifted the box he found it light. Marching it to the alley and setting it atop a lidded trash container, he put an ear to the box and listened—no scratching, no hissing, he told me—so he opened it. Inside was an orchid. Two spindly stalks each ending in fist-sized magenta and yellow blooms. He recognized the handwriting on the decorative envelope affixed to one of the stalks as that belonging to his ex, a passionate and justifiably unforgiving woman, who, he informs, before giving up on him had both died and lingered numerous times. Tipping his head back and gazing up through the zigzag of wires to where the sky above his alley is located, Mr. Meyers shouted the woman’s name, and, he told me, he may have continued doing so for who knows how long had not Mrs. Flynn got off a good one, the can she’d thrown landing with a mind clearing thud flush against the side of Mr. Meyers head. Mrs. Flynn, he shouted up to her once his wits semi-returned, thank you very much. And for the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening, together, now on her porch, they tossed empties into his yard.