This Old Souse Read Online Free PDF Page A

Fourth generation. I’ve always taken a Zip Code with me. Keeps the other dogs at bay.”
    â€œSo you’ve had this whole route all these years?” Judith inquired.
    Morty glanced at Renie, then looked back at Judith. “Why are you two asking me these questions?”
    â€œIt’s this place,” Judith replied, gesturing at the house. “Doesn’t it seem kind of spooky to you?”
    Morty, who was now standing on the sidewalk, glanced up the path that led to the front door. “Spooky? Gosh, I’ve never noticed. It’s just another house, another stop on the route, another slot to fill, twenty-five steps to three stairs, back down again, twenty-five to the street, fifty-seven steps to the corner, then—”
    Judith interrupted, though quietly. “Have you ever seen anybody around the house?”
    â€œLike people?” Morty shook his head. “I don’t see many people. Most of ’em work. Like me. Besides, I’ve only been doing this end of the route for the past year.My supervisor finally decided I’d had enough of that other part of Langford.” He paused to glare at Renie. “What I put up with all those—”
    â€œSo,” Judith said to prevent another monologue from Morty, “whoever lives here does get mail.”
    Zip Code was sniffing at Renie’s shoes. Renie was doing a little dance to get away from the animal.
    â€œOh, they get mail,” Morty replied with a shake of his head. “They all get mail, every day, except Sundays and holidays, rain, shine, snow, hail, heat, cold, earthquakes—”
    â€œLots of mail?” Judith interjected, ignoring Renie, who had stepped—not too hard—on Zip Code’s paw.
    Apparently, Morty didn’t notice. “Well—no.” The hint of a smile played at his thin lips. “I’ll say that for them. Oh, they get the usual bills—utilities, mostly—and the flyers everybody else gets.” He bent down to retrieve the pieces he’d dropped, but Zip Code had grabbed one of what looked like a personal letter and was chewing it to bits. “Never mind,” Morty said, “that wasn’t for these folks. It was for somebody in the next block.” He stroked the dog’s neck. “Yum-yum, huh, Zippy? What he really likes are those big manila envelopes that look so important but probably aren’t.”
    Renie twirled around and wandered off down the street.
    â€œAt least,” Morty went on, sorting through the rest of the mail he’d picked up, “these people here don’t get all those horrible catalogs. Two years ago, I ended up in traction after I threw my back out. No more of that, I said to myself. I load those blasted things into the van, but I dump ’em off at the nearest recyclingbin. Who needs all that junk? I figure I’m saving folks a lot of money. Besides, if they ordered the stuff, guess who’d have to deliver most of it?” He poked himself in the chest with his thumb.
    â€œSo they don’t get actual letters here?” Judith asked, beginning to feel weary.
    Morty scratched his chin, which looked as if it could use a shave. “Once a month, maybe. That’s it.”
    â€œI assume everything’s addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Bland,” Judith remarked.
    â€œOh, yeah. Except for the stuff marked ‘Resident’ or ‘Addressee’ or—here’s the one that really gets me. ‘To Our Friends at…’ Now, you know danged well, they aren’t friends. They don’t even know each other. It’s just a—” This time, Morty interrupted himself. “Hold on. A while back, there was a letter addressed to somebody who wasn’t named Bland. I noticed, ’cause I pay close attention to names and addresses. In fact, I think there’ve been some other letters to whoever it was.”
    Judith spoke loudly and quickly to drown out