Saturday's Mail

My morning started out as usual. Up at 4 am, I staggered to the bathroom and splashed ice cold water on my face. "Leave me alone, face screamed. I'm still asleep." I ignored face and staggered to the kitchen and fumbled for the coffee pot that sat on the counter in full view.
I've been called a walking zombie by my husband more than once in our married life. My cheerful husband chirps like a bird at 4 am but not me, the zombie can only manage a grunt or two and only then if necessary.
Dressed, I drove to the main post office to begin my duties as ruler mail carrier. A five hundred mail box day laid ahead.
After sorting, bundling and loading the days mail into my chevette, I left the post office for my route. My first stop was the only business on my route, I eased next to the mail box, let the red flag down and retrieved the out-going mail inside.
Several mail boxes later I knew I was nearing the home of the Black Beast, I reached over and cranked the window up on the passengers-side, leaving just enough room to push my hand and mail through the window.
I slowed my blue Chevette and eased as close to the mail box as possible, and as if on cue, the Black beast came out of no-where. . . Barking, his black paws clawed at the rear passenger window. Thankful the front mail box cover fell off months before, I reached my hand through the slit of the window and shoved mail into the open box.
"Foiled again, black beast," I yelled as I drove away.
The one place I stopped for a bathroom break was closed on Saturdays and this was Saturday. I felt the urgency to relieve the morning coffee as I neared the home of two school teachers, Pam and Sam.
(names changed to protect their identity)
Pam stood at the back of her car, the open trunk revealed her weekly grocery purchase.
“Pam, I asked, mind if I use your bathroom?” She knew me well, both, she and her husband taught our children.
“Sure,” she said, and instructed her three year old son to show me the way.
Eddie reached up for my hand and led me inside. We walked down a short narrow hall and stopped outside a door.
Eddie reached up and pulled the door lever down and the door swung open.
I stood in the doorway. . . and faced Eddie's father, who sat on the commode naked as the day he was born. His rounded tummy spilled over, resting on his thighs....his face covered with white shaving cream; two large eyes starred into mine . . . His mouth dropped open, his eyes grew wide with a look of dis-belief.
I backed out of the bathroom, leaving the stunned Sam on the commode.
Back at the post office I sorted flats, the images of Sam on the commode sent me into peels of laughter. My Supervisor, a stern fellow who never smiled let his curiosity take hold, he came over to my sorting case.
"What's so funny?" He asked.
I told the story to my laughing supervisor, he in turn repeated to another clerk. Soon, sounds of laughter echoed through the building...
I never told my supervisor the name of the couple, to this day it remains a secret between Sam, his wife, son and myself. :)