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The brave little toaster to the rescue plow scene
The brave little toaster to the rescue plow scene













the brave little toaster to the rescue plow scene

However unlike a warm small furry dog, a metal mailbox is cold, cold, cold to carry. I picked him up, double-checked that our mail was still inside, then started walking home with said sneaky mailbox cuddled in my arms, like you might when you capture a wiggly dog. The little miscreant, pushed by more gusts of wind, slide downhill in the gutter along the side of the street until it was in front of our next-door neighbor’s house where the runaway fell on its side, popping up its little red flag in surrender.

the brave little toaster to the rescue plow scene

I immediately went running out the front door to chase our mailbox, WITH OUR MAIL IN IT, down the street. Z-D, still listening to his conference call saw what had happened, found me downstairs, pointed outside, and mouthed the words “mailbox escaped.”

the brave little toaster to the rescue plow scene

Like a sneaky pet dog out on an adventure. There was a gust of wind and just like that our extra large black metal mailbox went flying off its post– and started scampering down the street. He was on a conference call, listening, bored presumably, and staring out the window at the street. Zen-Den was working from home in a guest bedroom his upstairs office that overlooks the front yard and street.















The brave little toaster to the rescue plow scene