The postman just walked in, no ring was heard.

John was a postman. He delivered the mail. Maybe even your mail. Sometimes you see him. Sometimes you don't. John started work at eighteen. For the post office that is. Poor John has never been in love. In fact he's almost convinced that he's gay. Not funny gay either. His mom still makes him breakfast. Each and every God damn morning. Every miserably intolerable day. Staring at him like that. Just fucking sipping on her coffee. Today, he turned twenty eight. An entire decade gone past. Invisible, lonely and obsolete. Fat, bald and forgotten. Poor bastard didn't ever get invited to the pub. Johns got plans though. He's been saving his dimes. For an uzi, and a ticket to Hawaii. It's the great and secret show. Mother's all packed and ready too. But what she doesn't know? Is that she's not coming. She's staying behind with the others. He wanted to get a ticket for everyone. It's a little to late now though.