~ Juicy Character Snippets ~ Mail

                                        • Continued •
     

   "He's hiding from me." Marjorie voiced her concern to Silvia over the phone.

       "I didn't think a man that large could hide?"

       "He is developing a very unhealthy habit of eating late at night." Marjorie sighed, "I hear him at three in the morning making himself a sandwich. I think he has even gotten fatter!"

       "Marjorie, you need to take action!" Silvia commanded into the phone. "Winston has got to move out."
 
       "I know, I know," Marjorie nodded, holding the phone tightly. "I just don't known what else to do?"

      "Tell you what. . ."

Marjorie's attention was directed to the side door. The door opened and Winston squeezed through like a round balloon.

      "I'll see you tonight," Marjorie whispered into the phone and hung up on her friend.

     Alarmed to see his mother in the daylight hours, Winston stopped humming his Italian Opera and stood very still. He had come up to check the mail to see if his naughty strumpet had written him. It had been a week since he sent his epistle. Her time was drawing to an end.

     "Hello, Winston," his mother smiled.

     "Mother," he nodded his head.

     "How is your day?"

      Winston ignored the question and noticed the mail sitting by the telephone. "Is there anything for me in the mail?"

Marjorie picked up the sorted mail and gave Winston his pile. "Here you go my dear."

Winston grabbed the mail like a hungry lion.

Coupons for his favorite burger establishment. Yes.

Credit card offers. Junk.

An invoice from a doctor's office, third notice. Winston refused to pay the ridiculous invoice. The doctor had mistreated him, and wrongly diagnosed him. Junk.

Medical testers needed. Intriguing.

His hands started to get sweaty. Near the end of his pile, he had one last letter to look at. His eyes widened. Recognizing that chicken scratch anywhere, his minx, his torture, had written him.

   "Oh, is that from your friend?" His mother took a step forward, getting hopeful.

   "I have no time to explain, mother." Winston's heart pushed through his chronic murmur and pumped with increasing vigor. "I have an Italian Opera to finish!" 

Humming proudly, Winston marched to his bedroom. Sitting at his desk, he pushed his half painted Warhammer elves aside and ripped open the letter.