The Velvet Black Box

Donald Templeton tugged his dog from the curb and steered him onto the grass. The dog hopped over a snow bank and squatted.

“About time,” he muttered. The green grass was just visible through the melting snow. He noticed the edge of a black box peeking out of the snow. “What’s that?”

He bent down and retrieved it. Elegant designs lined the velvet outside covering and when he opened it an origami of an ostridge rested inside. Stetson began pulling the chain and Donald gave a sharp tug. Underneath the lid of the box were the words: Open it.

He looked around and didn’t see anyone. The old ranch style house remained quiet. He opened it, revealing the words: In the mailbox.

He hadn’t noticed backing up until his heels hit the curb. Edging closer to the mailbox, he began debating whether to open it. He took a deep breath and pulled the tab and saw a sack stuffed inside. Again he peered around, sure that this was some game but it was to early in the morning on a weekend and he had not seen a person up this early. He grabbed the sack and pulled it out, closing the mailbox behind him.

Walking away, he untied it and looked in. A shovel and a piece of paper sat inside. He pulled it out, reading: Clean up your dog poop! Donald turned toward to house and a man in a bathrobe stood on the porch and flicked him off before retreating back inside.