The Post Office; Thusday [ 07/07 ].

[geewhizfellas.livejournal.com]

It had been a pretty gosh darn good week for Postman Butters, between deep fried Twinkies, a new friend who might not even make him do horrible things, and actually getting to the second floor common room on the first try. He liked all his classes so far and one of his teachers was a pony. Lots of great things were happening, and Butters was going to write all about them. He had picked out his favorite post cards from the little spinny rack full of them (and some he chose at random, giving it a spin and picking whichever he was pointing at when it stopped) and set to writing all about his good week. To his parents, his grandmother, his aunt and uncle in California. His pen pals in Alaska, in Russia, in the Colorado State Prison. To random people with addresses randomly grabbed out of phone books. Boy, wouldn't they feel great and special when they got a post card in the mail! And not only could he write them to pass some time, but he was already at the post office, so he could send them out right away, too!

"Postman Butters!" he cdeclared with a great swell of pride as he held out a post card to admire his writing on one side and the pretty, snowy scene of teal deer at the park on the other. "Making the world better, with each and every letter!"

And, with that rhyme, the Post Office is open!