Marge trudged through the dusty driveway of her rural Iowa driveway on her daily trip to the mailbox, which stood crookedly at the junction of the drive with the equally dusty road. Perhaps the check from the 'National Sleaze' would be in todays post. Perhaps Ty hand't been fibbing when he said the the publication had actually purchased his pictures. Perhaps she might even think about letting him not sleep on the sofa. No; letting him eat at the kitchen table again would probably be sufficient - no need to get lax and spoil the man.

She mused on various suitable rewards and punishments for Ty - depending of course on the arrival of the promised check - and it's amount - but shook off her daydreams as she reached the mailbox. Opening the door - she took out the latest delivery. bill. bill. Advertisment. Bill. Letter for.....

The remaining mail spilled, forgotton out of Marge's shaking hands. She stared, pop-eyed, at return address of the innocent seeming envelope clutched tightly between her shaking fingers. She never expected to see THAT on a letter from the East Lower South Upper West Keadawhore Rural Free Delivery!

Slowly - she opened the letter - read the short note inside - and with great dignity promptly fainted.

The envelope and letter fluttered away from her now lax fingers - the first line of the return address flashing as the envelope tumbled in the breeze:

Sgt. K. Laughing