Darren, the guy who works next to me, called in sick and when that happens a replacement letter carrier comes in to do the route. In this case it was the guy that looks like a Koopa Troopa wearing a toque. I’ve seen him around but have never spoken to him.
He began by picking up the elastics on the ground. Oh. A tidy fellow. He then slowly crouched down and gently tossed those elastics on and around my feet. I looked at him and he continued to busily tidy up his area. He never said a word. “What?” I asked myself.
I picked up all the junk he unloaded on me and deposited it in the garbage can situated between us. I gave him a few seconds of glaring which he decided to ignore. When the big boss lady came by he spoke with her about the traffic in their neighbourhood. Puh-lease. Is she actually fooled by this weirdo scheister. You can’t trust a Koopa Troopa. That’s the one thing I’ve learned in this life.