Certified

- Hello. - Oh, good day, Miss. I have a certified letter for Mrs. Sappleton. - Postman's here for you Aunty. - Where are your manners, young lady? Get the man something to drink, and I will be right down. - Please do come in. - Perhaps it's best if I just stay out here. - Don't be silly. Our old postman used to always come in for a soda. Aren't you thirsty? - Well, it sure is awful hot out. I'm not that thirsty. Expecting guests? - Guests? That would be a blessing. Every day for the last year, she's been making me set these out. She just can't accept that they're gone. - So you're not expecting guests? - A year ago, on a day just like this one her husband and his younger brother were working at the mine just like they did every day. They were deep underground working the lead on a new tunnel when something went wrong. One of the men, his hands wet with sweat, dropped his pickaxe. When it landed, the steel from the blade hit the tiniest piece of flint hidden under a rock. The spark from the flint hit a bit of hay thrown down to absorb oil from a broken lantern. It quickly caught ablaze and burned in a straight line towards a nearby box of dynamite. It took weeks to dig them out. And when their twisted and lifeless bodies were finally found, they were so badly mangled that my uncle could only be recognized by his wedding ring. Sometimes when I see the drinks sitting there, I forget. I expect to see them walking up, hear them laugh, have them tease me about my duck feet. - Oh, I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting. I needed to freshen up a bit before my husband comes home. He and his brother work the early shift at the mine. Are you to be our new postman, Mr. — - Nuttel, Frank Nuttel. Yes, ma'am. And if I could just get your signature right here. - Oh. I see. This is addressed to my husband. His name is Ashley. Often causes confusion. If you could just wait a bit, he'll be home shortly. - Yes, yes indeed. You know, I think it would be OK if you signed for him being as you're married and all. If I can just get your signature right here, I'll be on my way. Still have a few more houses to visit. [dog barking] - Oh, here he is now. [postman screaming] [postman screaming] [postman screaming] - Thanks, sweetheart. So who was that odd fellow? - That was our new postman. I don't know what got into him. One minute he was asking me for a signature, and the next he ran screaming from the house. Hmm. [dog barking] - I—I suppose it was the dog. He said he's had a horror of them ever since the Battle of the Bulge. Trapped in the middle of the night in the Ardennes. ten feet up a tree, surrounded by the pack of vicious beasts, sure that at any moment, their barking would bring the Nazis and that moment would be his last. Enough to make anyone lose their nerve.