There was, once upon a Time, a dark, foreboding castle sitting atop a hill, around which circled rather large pointy-looking flying things, to which most people, should they be asked, would attribute the horrifying screeching noises that pretty much dominated the aural landscape.
No one knew who or what lived in the castle, nor did they know exactly what the things flying were, and no one was terribly interested, anyway. One day there was a small child, who, being a typical child, had a certain degree of curiousity regarding the castle, but she never really got any answers to the major questions surrounding the castle and it's peculiar flying screeching (or so the consensus generally ran) things, in part due to her parents' refusal to let her leave the block she lived on unattended and strict rules pertaining to foreboding castles, also in part due to the fact that she was tremendously more curious about mud and all the uses it could serve and how positively delightful it looked with white. The latter part resulted in yet another restriction upon her activities from her parents.
And so the castle sat up there, foreboding, with screeching things (apparently) flying around it.
A couple of hills over and down in a comparitively shiney valley, there was a cottage.
People knew what was in this cottage. They knew because it looked a good deal more inviting than the castle, and was in a much better location, and had considerably less screeching flying things flying around it, in that it had none. Unless you had incredibly good hearing and good enough vision to pick out the occasional fly that meandered past.
So, of course, more people tended to exercise their curiousity (curiously, also mentioned in last week's issue, but that's just a coincidence) regarding this abode, and stopped by, braving the bugs drifting lazily past and horrificly gentle flowers, and knocked on the door.
At which point they discovered this cozy little cottage was the local post office. They also discovered that the post mistress was a bit of a grouchy old bag, and, after being hit with a toaster or other likewise throwable household appliance, usually left the cottage, curiousity sated.
Which wraps up our story.
Except to note that the cottage had a lot of undelivered mail for the castle atop the hill.
Which didn't matter a whole lot to the inhabitants of the castle atop the hill and the flying screechy things, because they had email, anyway.
disclaimer:
Next week bears a great big surprise for all of you. Honest.
Yer Weekly Horoscopes. between planets.