Certified
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- 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.