The Tablet

It was a bright and early morning when I awoke to the sound of my doorbell. I lazily slunk out of bed and dragged my still tired feet down the hall and to the front door of my modest, small bungalo. There I opened the wooden slab to reveal the sun shining bright on my queit neighborhood and could see the bird flying about that I had heard chipping away earlier.

My mood was still groggy as I had not planned on waking up until the late afternoon on my Saturday. Out I looked to either side of my porch to find the foul being that had rung my doorbell and woke the beast from its slumber. No one at all had been there it seems as the must have runaway and ditched me as a prank. But then I looked down to see a brown, unmarked package lying on my welcome mat. I picked it up and questioned how this ghostly mailman slipped by without asking me if this was even mine as I mentioned there being no address or postage stamp.

I returned to the saftey of my abode and questioned the reason this thing had been delivered to me. Was it a prank? A gift? Or maybe it was a bomb sent by some serial terrorist!? No matter what it was I carelessly tossed it over onto my couch and grumbled as I attempted to go back to dreaming the day away. On the way back, I happend by my bedroom mirror and took a look at myself.