Oh my God!! Daddy!! Daddy! Something has come through the door?!
I jerked upright from my seat and in one sinuous fluid motion was on my feet in battle-stance.
Something has come through the door? Some dread dark menace no doubt.
Were we now in that Stephen King novel, the Mist or something? Were there horrors that lurked out in the night even now attempting to shove their way in through my letterbox?!
They will learn. My letterbox is not open for business.
Daddy... QUICK!
I grimaced and scowled at the shouting from the hall like I was Pirate whose rum had the texture of jellied piss.
I winced. Would the lockdown drive us to drinking piss? And whose piss? Surely just our own?
The thought of drinking others piss made me retch.
But before my breakfast could come tumbling from my wet mouth the panicked shouting started up again in the hall and I realised I had a family to save.
I leapt up from battle-stance into Leaping Teeth. an ancient and deadly striking pose first used by Gregor Mancan in a sophisticated London Gentlemens club in 1846.
I flung the door open to the hall and shielded my eyes from the horror on display.
Daddy, what will we do?!!?
I unshielded my eyes.
There was a parcel. Lying on the hall floor. A parcel from outside.
It's just a parcel, lass.
I reassured the Little Lady as I bent to pick it up.
A part of me wished that it had been a gruesome half-feathered monster with big teeth. A good hand to hand El Mano fight in the hall might have relieved some of the Lockdown boredom.
STOP RIGHT THERE!
The Good Lady's voice boomed out from the stairs as she descended to join our hall party.
What? What is it? It's just a parcel. Not a monster or alien beast covered in slabbers?
I was puzzled. What was wrong with picking up a parcel?
DO NOT TOUCH IT. NOT YET.
She fished out a small bottle and handed it to me.
I attempted to flip the cap so that I could take a swig but when I did, there was only a sluggish gel inside which blurped out when I squeezed it.
Go on then. Pick it up and open it now. Make sure you use the hand sanitiser straight after. Just in case it's covered in COVID.
The Good Lady commanded sternly.
Really? I have to go through all the hand rigmarole for a parcel?
Daddy, GO!
The Good Lady pointed me at the kitchen in a voice that brooked no argument.
And don't forget to wash your hands after the hand sanitiser after the opening of the parcel. We can't take any chances.
I went off to the kitchen with the parcel and hand sanitiser. I knew it was no use arguing with the Good Lady when she was like this.
Fuck sake, is this what life has come to?
I wondered if it was too early for a beer.