Angus had no idea of who was on the other side of the door inflicting the agonizing blow upon him.Whether it be Maud or one of her parents was beyond him, yet what was of prime importance was how he would remove his swollen hand from inside the letter box.
The intense pain invoked a high degree of mental alertness within him. His senses sharpened he saw from the edge of his peripheral vision the well built Scottish farmer's wife marching up the garden path with shotgun in hand. Maud's father he heard raising the barn roof with jovial singing accompanied by his merry cohorts who had consumed a plenty of real ale, and the younger sister Elica, who was totally dyslexic, floated down from above the trees where she had been playing "faeries and goblins".
A hoard of football fans was running away down the country lane as fast as their legs would carry them, impeded by having shotgun pellets embedded in their buttocks, yet this was beyond Angus's range of consciousness.
"It's me, Maud" cried out the young Scotsman in a thick highland accent.
" Ooh, look. A runny babbit" exclaimed Elica who was still under the influence of the moorhsum nosaes.
"It's nay a runny babbit. It's a banny rubbit, honey," replied her Mom." Ah shite ! Now yous got me at it. And anyways, it's that young Angus and where's he going with our front door ".
