I was used to strange. I could handle strange. But, the constant stream of strange that had been flowing through my front door since the news broke last week was about to break me.

The doorbell chimed.
My right eye twitched.

Slogging through the maze of brightly colored and haphazardly stacked packages that lined the entry way took time when you’re trying not to kick, trample, or otherwise maim any of the gifts, “I don’t know why I even bother to move away from the door these days.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t,” came the curt reply.

I shot a quick, “Can it!” in the general vicinity of the stairs and was rewarded with a deep chuckle.

Strange days man, seriously.

The doorbell chimmed again.
My right eye twitched again.

Gesturing exaggeratedly I mumbled, “Yeah, yeah don’t get your panties, or you know, whatever in a bunch. I’m coming.”

Stepping over the last box, this one an odd-elephant like shape covered in foiled paper glowing with oriental lanterns, I took a deep breath. Finally at the door I reached for the handle and opened it with as much gusto as I could muster, bowing at the waist the words flowed from my mouth with practiced ease. “Good eve kind traveller, we are most gracious in your presence. What can we here, in this humble house, do for one such as yourself?”

Met with silence, I raised up.
Nothing.
I looked down at the stone stoop.

Well, this was just another fine mess wasn’t it?

Blowing the silvery curls out of my face I turned and yelled into the house, “We’ve got another one!”