Mrs. MacAdoo Goes to Post
“There, there, Winnifred. Mummy will be back soon.”
Mrs. MacAdoo pet the cat as it arched its back and hissed.
“Ooo. See a mouse, do you? Go for him!”
The cat ran off.
“Silly cat. Never catches a thing.”
Mrs. MacAdoo walked outside with a carefully wrapped parcel and her green umbrella. You never can tell about the weather.
At her mailbox down the walk stood the postman.
“Hello, Charles. Lovely day.”
“Yes, Mrs. MacAdoo. Off to deliver a parcel?”
“How observant of you, Charles,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “No junk mail today, please,” she added, pointing her umbrella.
“You know I can’t tamper with the mail, Mrs. MacAdoo.” He smiled and ducked.
“Ah, well. Must be off.” She opened the gate smack into his knees and the postman fell on his rump.
“Oh, Charles. You should be more careful,” she said and passed by him.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. MacAdoo!” her neighbor called.
“Hello, Mrs. Canopy. How is Melvin?”
“Recovering quite nicely. Thank you for asking.”
“Excellent news, my dear.” As Mrs. MacAdoo walked on, she waved her umbrella which brushed a tree, causing a bird to fly out and into Mrs. Canopy’s window. Quite a squawking ensued.
Mrs. MacAdoo reached the bus stop just in time. She got on and searched her purse for the fare. When she found a coin, she aimed for the slot.
She missed. The coin rolled under the driver’s feet. Mrs. MacAdoo got down on hands and knees to find it.
“It’s okay. Just leave it.”
Mrs. MacAdoo got up, smiled and put it in the slot.
The driver sighed. Mrs. MacAdoo took a seat next to a spikey-haired young man and rambled on to him about the dangers of drugs, until she noticed she had missed her stop. She stood up, pushed the button, and knocked the lad under the chin with her umbrella.
The bus driver gladly let Mrs. MacAdoo out.
When she reached the post office, there was a long line.
“My, this parcel is burdensome,” Mrs. MacAdoo said.
“Marvelous! You should go ahead,” the lady in front of her said into her phone.
“Why thank you. How nice.” Mrs. MacAdoo stepped ahead of her.
“Excuse me. Do you have the time?” Mrs. MacAdoo asked the next man.
“Oh, that will never do,” she said and poked the floor with her umbrella. But not the floor.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Why don’t you go ahead of me.”
“Thank you, kind Sir.”
Mrs. MacAdoo continued in this manner, straight to the front.
“Ah, Mrs. MacAdoo. Another special package for Arthur?”
She blushed. “Yes.”
After paying, Mrs. MacAdoo left, with more commotion and outbursts in her wake.
“What an odd bird,” said the next customer.
“Sweetest lady. Sends a hand knit sweater to her neighbor every month.”
“Why doesn’t she just give it to him?”
“She is his secret admirer,” he said with a wink.