Going Postal Page #6

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For the last time,

they weren't hallucinations.

They did try to kill me.

The terrible thing is, l deserve it.

Read my lips.

Words do not kill.

People kill.

Wild animals kill.

But words, words have

a totally different power.

They enter through our eyes and ears

and work their way into our souls.

l think this is where

the real problem is.

Your soul.

Don't blame the letters

for your own problems.

Now you can apologise

to Miss Dearheart.

lt is way beyond apology.

Only she can judge that.

Talk to her.

l don't trust my tongue.

When l speak, l lie.

lt's the way it's always been.

So don't speak.

Write her a letter.

A written confession.

A conman can't do that.

lt's against our code of practice.

But what better way

for a postmaster?

'Which is how l came

to be sitting here,

pouring out my heart.'

'All l can do is seal this

with the most loving kiss.'

'And hope.'

l'm not convinced, Mr Pump.

l didn't get where l am today

by telling the truth.

And where exactly are you?

Point taken.

Stamp it up and send it on its way.

No. You must deliver this by hand.

(LAUGHS) lf l get within 50 yards

of Adora, l'm a dead man.

l told Adora to meet you

at 8 o'clock.

Dinner for two.

You mean l have to be there

when she reads this?

At the best restaurant in town.

How did you get a table?

They're booked up for months.

l didn't.

This is one time

your lying will be useful.

Good evening, sir.

Reservation for?

You mean you still don't know?

After all the times l've been here.

l'm acquainted with the regulars,

but, er...

..l cannot place you, sir.

Very good.

l appreciate your discretion.

Wouldn't want everyone knowing

we were here.

So, shall l wait for Mr Gilt

inside at the regular table?

Mr Gilt, you say?

Mm-hm.

l'm afraid that...

Mr Gilt doesn't do problems.

But... Surely you of all people

remember the Poisson Rouge.

l cannot say...

Exactly.

Mr Gilt used to take

the city's finest there every week

until one day,

same thing happened.

Au revoir, Poisson Rouge.

l'll wait inside, shall l?

Adora.

You look... l'm only here because

Mr Pump begged.

That and the stuffed liver.

To be honest,

l can't think about food...

until you've read this.

ls it an apology?

lt... lt's worse than that.

Just read it.

And then, maybe, we can move on.

(CLEARS THROAT)

(BANSHEE'S VOlCE)

Good evening, little postman.

Hello?!

(BANSHEE BREATHES HEAVlLY)

We are closed.

But we are open again

at nine in the morning.

We've got a special

on mail to Pseudopolis. Ah!

Why not write to your old granny?

l ate my granny.

Oh.

Then l'm dead.

(SCREAMS)

Erm. Perhaps l could paraphrase

the last section.

You ruined my family.

Adora, l'm sorry. What can l say?

l'm sorry. l'm so sorry.

You're a liar and cheat.

Those days are behind me. l swear.

Every word is true, l've bared my

soul to you. There are no lies left.

My dear Moist.

How good of you to bag a table.

You... And him?

No.

Always a joke with Moist, hmm?

Why don't you to ask them

to bring the champagne list, huh?

Just gotta freshen up.

How many more times

will you humiliate me?

l can explain. (CRlES OUT lN PAlN)

What is in your foot

is a steel-tipped,

four-inch stiletto heel.

The most dangerous footwear

in the world. (CRlES OUT)

l know what you're thinking. "Could

she push it through to the floor?"

(CRlES OUT) No!

To tell you the truth, l'm not sure

about that myself,

but l'm going to give it

a damn good try.

(CRlES OUT lN PAlN)

The Post Office is burning!

Argh!

Mr Pump.

Where's Stanley and Groat?

Your safety is my concern.

Mr Groat.

(CRlES OUT lN PAlN)

Call the fire brigade.

Argh! (COUGHS)

lt's Stanley. You've got to save

Stanley. (STRUGGLES TO BREATHE)

Mr Lipwig. lt's too dangerous.

Stanley!

(BANSHEE SCREAMS)

Argh!

And Lipwig make five!

l'm collecting dead postmasters.

Of course,

the fun part is making them dead!

You killed them?

All of them?

Oh, yes.

l am the killer!

(CRlES OUT)

This is a Post Office closer!

(BOTH SCREAM)

(ONLOOKERS SHRlEK)

You know what they say.

Hear the cry of the banshee and die!

Actually...

..it's banshee cries, somebody dies.

Today it's you.

Missed both my hearts.

l do love postmasters.

Killing them is so lucrative.

(YELLS)

Who's paying you?

Not everyone can afford

assassin of calibre.

l deal with all Reacher's

loose ends.

Gilt.

The Dearheart boy

screamed like a pig.

Screamed like a pig!

Till he struck the ground.

Time to shut up shop, Postmaster.

This is not Reacher Gilt's

Post Office to close.

lt belongs to the city.

How dare he come in here

and destroy it.

(WHlSPERlNG VOlCES)

Oh, please!

Can't l even die in peace?

l mean, l'm no angel, but him?

He's a devil.

(YELLS)

"Upon discovery of fire,

remain calm."

(COUGHS)

"Shout 'fire'

in a loud, clear voice."

Fire!

Stanley.

"lf trapped...

..await A, rescue or B, death."

Straightforward enough.

(WHlSTLES)

A it is, then.

Come on.

(WHlSPERlNG VOlCES)

l owe you.

Where are the fire brigade?

We have no insurance.

What?

l'm sorry, sir,

it was fire insurance or food.

Where are the buckets then?

This is beyond buckets, Mr Lipwig.

(VlOLlN PLAYS MOURNFULLY)

Hmm!

Adora.

Care for a dance?

A dance? With you?

A self-centred skuggem

with the moral fibre of a...

A rat?

A rat.

Thank you.

My pleasure.

(SHRlEKS)

(SHRlEKS) Let me go!

Not until l've told you

what's really going on.

You destroyed my family,

that's what's going on.

That was an accident.

l can put it right.

You don't know the meaning

of the word "right".

Those dead postmasters,

Gilt had them killed.

He tried to kill me, too.

Who'd have thought l had something

in common with Reacher Gilt?

Adora, he murdered your brother.

John wore a safety line,

but he fell to his death.

lt doesn't make sense, unless you

hire a flying banshee to push him.

And banshees are Gilt's

weapon of choice.

You've got proof?

Of course.

Well, the banshee was my proof.

He knew everything.

Except how to be fireproof.

How convenient!

Even so, l think l can bring down

Reacher Gilt.

All talk and no action, as usual.

Adora, will you trust me

just this once?

(SHE KNEES HlM)

Oh!

Does that answer your question?

Any comment to go with the picture,

Mr Lipwig?

Reacher.

Marvellous, isn't it?

A bit...

..extreme?

The point is, Horsefry, we've won.

We've won.

Well, l suppose that's one way

to deal with the backlog.

How can you joke?

That's our life. And it's gone.

Be brave, Mr Groat.

There's our customers over there.

Sending clacks, we've lost them.

Then we'll just have

to win them back again, won't we?

Come on, Mr Groat.

The Post Office is open... as usual.

A bit more open than usual,

l would say.

Number four delivery, proceed.

Number four delivery.

Stan!

Aggy!

Not many of us old postmen

left now, Mr Groat.

We help out the best we can

in the post's hour of need.

See?

People love the Post Office.

So... (CLEARS THROAT)

Get your men organised,

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