Mail Slot Sabotage

Morning quiet is an illusion that practically begs to be shattered. I dragged myself over to the front door, eyeing the brass mail slot where the morning letters usually drop. Instead of waiting for paper to violate the floor, I recruited an empty cardboard egg carton and wedged it sideways right under the flap. Next, I took an unsharpened red pencil and propped the brass hinge open just an inch, making the entrance look like a gaping wooden jaw. The cool outdoor draft hissed right through the slit, rustling the carton flaps like chattering teeth. Consider the threshold officially compromised.