Returning home fatigued, too tired to microwave yesterday’s leftovers, I plonked myself in front of the computer and logged in to my new app, PerfectLife.
PerfectLife let me be the person I dreamed of becoming. Rich, successful, a family man with great teen-aged kids and a wife who accepted me for who I am. In the back yard was a kennel where our mongrel puppy, Bobo, was taking a nap. Very soon I would be waking him up for our evening stroll around the block. But first I wanted to check my email. WTF (gosh)…my inbox was empty! I rebooted the computer and looked again – nothing. I contacted my email provider and got a standard message absolving them of all responsibility.
I had a brain wave, maybe Bobo could help. I walked around to the back of the house and Bobo pricked up his ears. “Here boy” shouted once brought the puppy to my heels, eager for my next command.
“Did you see the mailman Bobo?” I asked.
He got all excited and started drooling over my trainers. But without words I was flummoxed. So I tweaked the dog profile with a bit of pirate code, and Bobo was talking with an Australian accent.
“Oh yeah, the mailman came this avo with a parcel and an assortment of white and brown envelopes.”
“Did you see what he did with them?”
“Too right, I waited till he’d gone then I buried them in the flowerbed.”
“Which flowerbed?”
The one by the kitchen wall.”
I ran over there, leaping over the water feature with impossible athleticism. Digging in the dirt I looked for the mail.I was expecting a very important letter from a publisher. A close friend who worked for them had hinted that a book deal might be on the table.
The emails were in a frightful state, many ripped to shreds. I turned to see Bobo trying to slink off to his kennel.
“Bobo, you ate my emails didn’t you?”
“I thought they were food – you hadn’t fed me this morning, and my stomach thought my throat had been cut.”
“That can be arranged.”
Bobo sidled up to me and licked my hand. What’s a few emails between friends?
odespinner 