Ding dong!

Went the doorbell

Amazingly, it appeared both my front door and the complex mechanism required to work my doorbell had survived the fire unharmed. Stumbling blearily from a bed of broken concrete and burned wood, I walked to the door and peered through the peep-hole. It was a useful new feature I'd had installed in a vague attempt to stop having to talk to door-to-door fools. Of course, it was more useful when you had walls and shit, instead of just a freestanding door...

 Outside was a man dressed in white Khaki, a look completed with safari hat perched on the wearer's head. I shrugged to myself and opened the door.

 "Ah! Good day old sport!" The man began, his voice emanating from somewhere within a giant white moustache. "Nigel Wriggly-Washington, at your service!"

A ferocious beast. Source

 "Excellent." I mumbled unenthusiastically. "And I see your some sort of Victorian explorer or hunter?"

 "Yes old bean, you've hit the nail on the head there! I am a hunter! Not just any hunter, of course, but one specialising in a very dangerous prey!"

 "You hunt fictional Gods?" I asked hopefully (Raiden's getting on my nerves).

 "No, of course not. I serve my King and Country hunting poodles on the Coast of Africa!"

 I nodded.

 "And, of course, I make something on the side selling the finest poodleskins to esteemed gentlemen like yourself sir. Why not buy one sir, makes a great material for making your finery out of! Impress the young lady in your life by buying her a poodle corsage!"

 I nodded sadly. I had no idea what a poodle corsage was, but it didn't sound like something that would impress a young lady.

 "You know poodles are a small, domesticated dog, don't you?"

 "No sir, not the wild African poodle. A dangerous beast sir, 8 foot long with razor-sharp teeth!"

 "Right, ok then." I replied. Then, smugly: "Ok. I believe you. Show me those 'pelts' you've amassed then..."

 Reaching into his satchel, Nigel produced something large and wiry. On closer inspection, I realised it was a scouring pad.

 "Look," I started, "This is a cleaning implement, not an animal skin."

 "You're sure you're not going to fall for any of this?"

 "No." I replied unwittingly.

 "Well, fine then."

 With that, Nigel (it's not his real name, I gather) scoured my face. In the ensuring confusion, he stole both my wallet and my doorbell.

 Overall, it's been a good day.