Postman

I cautiously walked up the steps of Gatwick House on Fitzroy St with my bundle of mail. Bunching up the sleeves of my raincoat, I clasped the door with my wrists, pulling it open whilst taking care not to touch it with my bare skin for fear of the numerous diseases it was surely rife with. Entering the lobby of the building that is a roof for the many junkies, alcoholics and homeless of St Kilda I was struck by the smell of a mortuary with busted air conditioning. Two people had been murdered here in the last 6 months and blood frequently colours the path outside. I kept my head down.

Passing a large man standing along the lobby wall I made my way to the office to deliver the mail. The tower of a man stood staunchly and silently facing the wall with his back to me. Black boots, black jeans, black singlet all topped off with a black afro. I caught a brief glimpse of a black bushy Grizzly Adams beard. I kept my head down.

Suddenly I hear an outburst from the man mountain addressing someone in a lively manner,

"What do you call a man who likes guys?"

"Normal."

I glanced up for a second.

Upon hearing his own punchline he starts to violently giggle and cackle, while his upper body starts dancing in a spastic manner.

At that point I realise there is no one else there, Grizzly Adams is talking to himself in a large wall mirror.

I boot the door open.

I jump down the steps in one leap.

I bike like hell.