Tuesday, 19 July 2011

story 1.3

"Good grief," Bobbi muttered, "It's impossible to sleep in with all that racket outside."

"Keep it down out there!" she hollered.

Atilla glared suspiciously at the letterbox. It never spoke previously. He decided to ask the hovering thing for a different favour.

"Can you find out why the letterbox told us to be quiet?"

Cat1 considered. "Sure," he said, "as long as I'm not taking mail that I have no right to."

Through the visuals of his craft, he inspected his latest assignment. It was mostly green, and there was a protruding line which might, if design were standard in the multiverse, be the entry to an opening.

In an unsympathetic world, force would be expected to apply to open a closed object.

Cat1 applied natural philosophy. "Hello. Why do you want us to be quiet?"

"Gods' blood," the words echoed hollowly from the letterbox, "I want to sleep."

"It wants to sleep," Cat1 explained to the kid.

Atilla was more suspicious. "I had bedtime last night," he reasoned aloud, "and I've had breakfast, and I haven't had lunch yet so it's not naptime yet either. No-one is asleep now."

"Well I sure can't sleep if you keep talking," griped the letterbox.

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