So there Walter sat, in a blue
lawn chair he grabbed from the garage.
The early summer day did not bother him, for the sun rested behind many
clouds keeping the temperature tolerable.
Occasionally he would slip into a dreamless sleep, as he waited for the
mail man to show up. After a few minutes
he stirred in his chair to wake himself and to keep alert. To pass the time, he watched the houses
around him as his neighbors left for work or went for a jog. At one point children gathered to play. This was the perfect community and to boot, everyone
kept their lawns neat and tidy. Except
for the Whites.
Oh the hedges, Walter thought, as he glanced over at the chaotic
yard. It was impossible to keep his eyes
looking on such an atrocity, causing him to pick up the chair beneath him and
rotate to face the other way.
The hours did not take long to
pass. When Bill pulled up to the block
with his mail car, he spotted Mr. Sherman down the way, looking very irate. Bill had to roll his eyes when he noticed
the sour faced man. Under his breath he muttered,
“Not again.”
Walter greeted him, once he
arrived at 125, “Bill, it’s good to see you!
How is the business today?”
“Hello, Mr. Sherman. Business is good. Just delivering the mail,” Bill responded
happily, hoping that the conversation would stay light.
“That’s great, that’s good. I got something I want to say to you now.”
Here it comes, Bill complained in his head.
“Have you talked to those fellas
up at headquarters for me? Did you do
what I asked?”
Bill had a dark complexion for
the beginning of summer, and it would continue to tan as the days wore on. A straight graying mustache grew above his
lips, that would curve downwards when he smiled, and upwards if frowning. Currently this curve moved from down to
up. He answered irritably ashamed, “No,
no. I haven’t talked to them at ‘headquarters’. Listen, Walter, I’m real busy today. I don’t have the time to explain to you again
how-”
Walter
interrupted him, “How hard is it to just simply change an address? I’ll do it myself. I’ll rip that ‘3’ off their box for
them! I’ll nail up my ‘5’! They won’t have to do a thing. And you know, you just have to have headquarters,
switch our names, and everything will be fine.
Come on, Bill, for me!”
“That
all is out of the question, Mr. Sherman.”
“But
why? Why do they get to get away with
the sins they commit over there!”
Bill,
the mailman, had about enough he could handle for the day. Maybe tomorrow they could continue the
conversation, but today, he had reached his limit. Bill looked Walter straight in the eye, and
voiced clearly, “Look! You don’t have to
switch addresses. If you don’t like your
house anymore, or your neighborhood, move!
I can’t do anything about your house numbers, or anything about how
someone lives. If they like it messy
over there, that’s fine. Let them be! But please, for Pete’s sake, have something
else to talk about when I deliver your mail, Mr. Sherman! Good day!”
When
Bill shoved his mail into his fumbling hands and stormed off, Walter was so
shocked that he stood there for a minute with his mouth wide open.
It
would have been nice if Walter received the message and took a hint, but
instead, Walter decided he would have to take matters into his own hands. Trimmed hedges would do his eyes good, if he
could only get in their lawn unnoticed.
First, he had to assemble the right team. A visit to the lawn and garden store might
prove valuable in his efforts to fix the problem.
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