Paperboi

The sprinkler wouldn’t shut off and it just about blew my mind. It had been clicking away for what seemed to be an eternity. I thought about this as I stared at my triple stack of pancakes - all the while Shannon sat across from me picking at her grapefruit with a look of wild yet wholesome satisfaction. I looked on in awe as sweet syrup dripped and oozed, melding with the butter and jam on my plate. The concoction created this amazing psychedelic swirl of sugary delight - it was next to impossible not to dig the whole scene. Shannon cleared her throat and eased back in her chair - her dark eyes gazing out the window at our perfectly manicured lawn. It was a fine spring morning, as fresh as they come. I inhaled the pancake stack then excused myself to retrieve the morning paper. Upon opening the front door I was temporarily blinded by the bright morning sun - the next thing I remember is hearing a bicycle bell ring out and then young William, our paper boy calling to me, ‘Goodmorning Mr. Shackleton!’ I raised my hand to block the light and wave back but was suddenly overcome with ungodly horror due to the fact that I was just straight blasted in the groin by a high flying tightly rolled-up newspaper. The next few moments found me bent over and moaning to heaven on high. Tears flooded my eyes as I raised a middle finger in the direction of the young boy, but all I could make out was his silhouette as he gingerly pedaled down the cul-de-sac to bombard the next anxiously awaiting customer.