OK. So it's just me and the dog until Saturday afternoon and I'm causing cochlear damage with the new remaster of the first Hendrix album right now. I'm a newbie, so I'm not gonna go through 45 pages of this thread to see if this is cool. Sorry, Amie.

The postman is on his last day after delivering the same route for 30 years.

He arrives at Mrs. Oakbury's house mid morning. She's waiting at the front door. She invites him in and seats him at the kitchen table for a "treat." She serves him "scratch" everything---ham, bacon, eggs, pancakes, muffins (2 kinds!), Kenyan coffee---the works.

He tells her that the other neighbors had given him little gifts, but this was really over the top. "Wait, there's more," she said. "Follow me."

She leads him upstairs to the bedroom and throws him the best roll-around he's ever had. "Whew, that was amazing," he said. "There's still more," she replied, as she got up, went to her handbag on the dresser, pulled out a dollar and handed it to him.

"What's this for?" he asked. "Well," she said, "I told my husband this morning that everyone in the neighborhood was getting you a gift. What should I do? He said, 'Fuck him, give him a buck.' But the breakfast was my idea!"




Last edited by BobKay; 03/25/10 05:46 AM.

Always call the place you live a house. When you're old, everyone else will call it a home.