“Peterson?” I inquired at the gate.
“That’s us. Come on in,” Mr. Peterson beckoned.
I walked up to the front porch.
“Post office’s been havin’ quite a time trackin’ you down,” I said, waving an envelope. “Looks like it’s been halfway ‘round the world.”
Mrs. Peterson held out her hand. “Well, let’s see what you got.”
I extended the letter and Mrs. Peterson took hold of it. I gasped. The hand holding the letter was that of a skeleton. I looked up in shock. Mr. and Mrs. Peterson were skeletons! Even their cat and their dog!
“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Peterson, seeing the look on my face. “Hon, didn’t they tell you?”
“T-tell me what,” I stammered.
“This here is from the dead letter department. Only the dead can receive it – and only the dead can deliver it.”
I stared in horror at my hand; it had become a skeleton.