Switchback Fair

Frank Ashizukai, ninja postman, surveyed the scene. He was charged with a seemingly simple task: deliver a parcel to Dr M. Bayernfels at the Tent of Wonders. But Ashizukai knew better than to take any delivery for granted.

A pigeon landed in front of the tent and started pecking the ground. Was it an ordinary pigeon? Or was it a highly-trained samurai pigeon, in the pay of the local warlord, just waiting for its chance to strike with a blade concealed under its wings? Ashizukai shuddered at the thought of how many times he had faced death in pigeon form.

He continued to watch patiently, hidden behind a stall that sold quality wooden knick knacks for mantelpieces. His hand poised above a replica bird of paradise, carefully chosen for its suitability as a close combat weapon.

Eventually, the pigeon flew off again. Ashizukai kept his eyes on it as it circled over the fair and then turned away towards the village. When it returned, he would be ready.

The coast now clear, he headed stealthily to the entrance of the Tent of Wonders.

‘Dr M. Bayernfels?’ he called.

A small man emerged from the tent.

‘That’s me!’ said Bayernfels cheerfully, but his face dropped when he saw how Ashizukai was dressed. ‘Have you come to kill me?’ he said, resigned.

‘Not today,’ said Ashizukai, handing him his parcel.

‘Oh right,’ said Bayernfels. ‘You’re the new postman! Thanks a lot, I’ve been waiting for weeks for this. Do you want to see what’s inside?’

‘That’s up to you,’ said Ashizukai.

‘You’re not the tiniest bit curious?’ said Bayernfels. ‘This is the Tent of Wonders, after all.’

Ashizukai assessed the potential threat level of the box.

‘Very well,’ he said.

Bayernfels opened the box and beamed with pride.

‘Isn’t it marvellous?’ he said. ‘It’s come all the way from Papua New Guinea. Handmade by a tribe considered lost until three months ago. The crowds are going to go wild for it.’

Ashizukai took a closer look at the Wonder. It was a wooden bird of paradise.

‘Erm … you do know you can get these over at the knick knack stall, don’t you?’ he said. They’ve got a two for a tenner deal on at the moment.’

The summer residence of Jack Caracas was guarded by a pack of hounds with severe anger management issues. So vicious were they that Switchback’s village postman had been forced into early retirement, his replacement had suffered a nervous breakdown, and the latest had asked to return to his original position at the British Forces post office in Helmand province, Afghanistan.

Alarmed at the attrition rate, the Royal Mail sent in one of their elite: Frank Ashizukai, the ninja postman.

A slight rustle in the leylandii was all that indicated the presence of the new arrival and his payload of 6,128 pieces of undelivered mail. Frank balanced himself on a twig and prepared to exploit the psychological weaknesses of the hounds.

‘Fetch!’ he shouted, throwing a star shuriken over to the other side of the grounds, then disappeared back into the shadows. Thirty seconds later he was on the balcony of the master bedroom, with the hounds barking ineffectually below.

It was the work of a moment to blow up the balcony doors. As the smoke cleared, Frank saw half a dozen scantily-clad women scattering from the bedroom while a bodyguard rushed in to the aid of Caracas.

‘Who are you?’ said Jack, from the bed. ‘Paparazzi?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Frank. ‘I’m your new postman.’

‘Really?’ said Jack. ‘I do have a letterbox, you know.’

The sack of undelivered mail was thrown down on his bed.

‘Wouldn’t have fit,’ said Frank. ‘Didn’t you wonder why you hadn’t received any mail for the past year?’

‘I was a little concerned about the lack of fanmail, I suppose,’ said Jack.

‘It’s up to you,’ said Frank. ‘Either keep your dogs under control, or get your balcony doors blown up once a day. Before 9am for special deliveries.’