Deleted Member Posted March 19, 2013 In the very likely event that you might happen down Moreshire Way on a summer’s afternoon, you might see billows of smoke coming from the house on the corner. 4 Moreshire Way, of course, was the residence of Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle, who enjoyed sitting on his porch smoking his hooka in the late afternoon hours when there was nothing of greater importance for him to while away his time with. Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle was a jovial sort of gentleman in the manner of those jovial sorts of gentlemen of old. He was very nearly forty-two years old—which is to say that he had already reached the ripe age of forty-one—and was beginning to develop a bald spot atop his head. He was of slender build and still had the eyes of a youth half his age. He could often be seen sporting a dark purple waistcoat and navy slacks and pale yellow shoes, and he was never at all seen without a black top hat upon his head. Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle lived alone except for his husband, Myron, and his pet king cobra, George Wayne Morris III, with whom he often could be found engaging in philosophical debates and conversations of less important matters. George Wayne Morris III, who was more fondly referred to as just George, had been named after Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle’s father shortly after he had been found abandoned by a carnival. (George, that is, and not Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle’s father.) Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle had taken him home promptly, and the two of them became fast friends within a very short period of time. You might think that king cobras do not spend their time engaging in philosophical debates, but that so happened to be one of his favorite pastimes, as it was also one of Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle’s favorite pastimes, and the two of them were known to have long conversations into the late hours of the night. Another one of George’s favorite pastimes, which actually made him such a good match for Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle, was smoking hooka, and he often would curl up on a pillow quite near to Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle when the latter would light up the hooka, and the two of them would take turns smoking and debating, debating and smoking. It so happened that one warm summer evening, as Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle and George were sharing a hooka and discussing the advantages and disadvantages of socialist economics, a young man in a uniform appeared on the front porch with an unexpected telegram for Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle. “I have an unexpected telegram for one Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle.” He knew immediately to hand the telegram over to Mr. Mackenzie Mudfuddle and not to George, and George acted quite normally as though the young man’s slight did not bother him in the least bit.