A dangerous job

The postman hid behind the gatepost. He could feel his heart thumping from his head down to his toes, as though it was trying to escape from his chest. On the other side of the gate was a black dog; its head shaped like a mallet and growling an ominous rumble of thunder. The postman was extremely scared. He imagined the dog eating him, gobbling him up so that nothing remained except his postmans' bag. And his bicycle. The dog might even eat that.

He moved an inch behind the gatepost and felt the dog's hatred like hot breath on his neck. His palms sweated as he gripped the parcel he had to deliver. He peeped from behind his brick pillar of safety and the dog barked and ate some gravel, crunching the stones in its terrible teeth. Should the postman throw the parcel over the gate and run? No, the dog would surely eat the parcel.

Then the postman had an idea. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled: 'I have a parcel for Sammy! A parcel for Sammy!'

There was silence. Then the sound of something clearing its throat. The dog's head appeared through the bars of the gate.

'Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I'm Sammy. The parcel will be for me. Ah yes, the new bone I ordered. Sorry about the barking and all that, but it's part of the job description. Good day.' And the dog trotted off towards the house, parcel delicately held between its teeth.

'Hmm,' thought the postman. He looked at the next package in his sack. It was addressed to Tiger Phillips. The postman took a deep breath and pushed his bike along the pavement.