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It was tense around our house for that month and not only because the recyclables were piling up in our garage.On the third Monday of that summer month several years ago, my wife was up well before dawn and watching for the trash man. When he climbed down outta his truck and opened the lid of our recycling bin to evidently scrutinize the contents, my wife charged outta the front door like she'd been fired from a cannon. She rolled-up on him and unloaded a pent-up, invective-filled tirade that had me wincing from my vantage point on the front porch.The trash man was dumbstruck. Overawed. He actually flinched and took several steps backwards and put his hands-up placatingly.Funny thing was that my wife was still wearing what she'd worn to bed - which was a threadbare tank top and nude-colored underwear. She was barefoot and without a bra, her hair still mussed from sleep and wadded up in a tangled bun piled lopsidedly on her head. As she ranted and raved, her sagging 50year old. My heart was beating so fast, I thought I was dead already. Then it raised its other hand towards me. Still I remained where I was, not daring myself to move, yet frightened out of my wits and breathing heavy at the same time. Afterwards when I get up I would realise I’d peed on my jeans. I watched as Death brought a finger towards my forehead and did what looked like a sign of a cross a few inches from my face. Then it turned around and walked towards the door. The door bell chimed and flung itself open for the wraith as it then disappeared inside the rainstorm outside. I got up to my feet, letting Magnus’s head hit the linoleum floor, and went to the door. I looked out into the steady downpour, but could hardly make out anything. The road passing in front of our shop leading further into town was completely washed up by the rain. Brilliant flashes of lightning lit the sky sporadically, followed by loud clashes of thunder that made me disappear back into the shop. I went to the.
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