"Yes, Mama. Won't be long."
....krrrriuuuukkk....bang!
"Angelina, don't slam the door."
....krrriuuuuukkk..
"It wasn't me Mama. It was the wind."
"OK."
....krrriuuuuukkk..
After five minutes or so...
....krrrriuuuukkk...
"Mama, I can't get 'to' the mail."
"What do you mean by you can't get 'to' the mail?"
"It's too high, Mama. I can't reach it."
"Don't lie, sweetheart. It's within your reach."
"I used to. But I can't anymore."
"Duh?"
"Well, you should see it for yourself."
"I will. You come with me too."
....krrrriuuuukkkkk...click..
Meanwhile, on ground level....
"What the #@%&*!!!"
"Mama, don't swear."
"Oh, sorry sweetheart. It will be a while before I'll ask you to check the mail again."
"But I can climb to the brown box, Mama."
"Nope. This is a construction site now. Dangerous for you."
Someone knocked down the mailboxes at our building over the weekend.
