Thursday, March 06, 2008

Waiting at the Mailbox

Devious waited by the mailbox. He wasn’t happy about it; waiting here was a waste of his valuable time. Time that would be better spent cleaning, digging the foundation for Harold’s new outhouse of eating. Especially eating. An imp lives on its stomach.

He glanced back at the house. There was no sign of anyone coming to collect the mail . That was good. They’d had to install an American-style postbox at the front gate ever since the postman caught sight of what he tried to convince the council was ‘a gigantic wolf’ in the grounds and refused to come past the gate afterward. A week of fishing soggy letters from the puddle under the gatepost convinced Harold to seek an alternative solution, preferably one that didn’t involve Jasfoup taking great pleasure in showing the postman his own spleen.

Hence Devious sat on top of a cold mailbox in early spring, just before the start of the impish mating season.

Waiting for his parcel of cut-price Viagra.

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