Cocaine Princess here.
My doorbell rang this evening. I looked to see who it was. It was the paper boy who delivers the town's local paper which is published only twice a week. There's not much news in it other than what went on at the last budget meeting or letters to the editor which are mostly written by the poodle lady. It's filled with more advertisements than news. I open the door and the paper boy says, 'I broke your flowers lady, I'm sorry.' I step outside on the porch and I see the hanging flower basket on the ground. Instead of putting the newspaper in the mailbox, he stood in my garden and threw it hoping it would land on the porch but it hit the flower basket knocking it right off the hook. 'It was an accident,' he pleaded. 'I know and it's okay so don't worry,' I assured him. 'I know your sister. She teaches at the school I go to.' 'I'll make sure to tell her you said hello.' 'Thank you lady. Bye,' he replied taking a deep sigh of relief and left with his wagon full of papers. My paper boy is only 8 years old and skinny like a twig, but he has some right arm!
XOXOXOXO,
Cocaine Princess
