I opened the curtains again. I was relieved to discover hiding from the problem had worked - I seemed to be back on dry land. In fact, my house seemed to be back in my garden. A closer examination revealed a postman trapped in the basement, but all-in-all, things seemed good. However, problems arose when the postman tried to leave. As I walked him to the gate, we both noticed my house was no surrounded by a 20-foot wall. Digging revealed that the wall was firmly fixed in place, so I called Max, remembering he had a lot of nitroglycerin lying around his flat. And nails. I should probably tell someone
It didn't take him long to blow a hole in the wall, and soon I was free again. The postman, unfazed by such events, continued on his journey.

Religious callers?

I've developed a new hobby, namely annoying those surreal peoples who appear on my doorstep. It was simple really, based on a strategy I observed some Jehovah's Witnesses engaging in. It wasn't the normal door-to-door thing, I just followed them into Greggs. One had a roll, with chicken I think. The other waited nervously by the door, stepping from foot-to-foot and murmuring like a cartoon character. Anyway, it was then I decided to spend my life sitting in whatever fictional home I'm in at the moment, fully suited and wearing a name badge. Whenever someone knocks on my door now, I tell them about Jesus for several minutes, before leaving them in my flat and going away.
 It's a fun hobby, but rather costly. Similarly, the postman seems to be more popular with my flatmates than I ever was.
 I want revenge...