When Vern pulled up to the house her father was standing at the doorway. She gathered the box of donuts, coffee and juice and hurried through the door so the rain would not soak her or the groceries.

“Give it to me.”

“Give me a sec. Here take these while I put the juice up.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“My blasted paper!”

“They ran out because of the hurricane they said they won’t be getting anymore.”

“Then go somewhere else.”

“Are you kidding me?  It is raining and flooding all around, yet you want me to risk my life for a newspaper.  How about you use the internet to read the news like everyone else in this century?”

“Take it from your neighbor.”

“No!”

“Why? You don’t even like her.”

“So, that doesn’t give me the right to steal her newspaper.”

“Yes, yes it does.  Look here.  This is an opportunity.  She will never know it was you. She’ll think the rain washed it away, plus she deserves it.”

“Grow up, here’s your coffee. Now go watch TV or use the computer.”

“No, I’m a war veteran.  I deserve that newspaper and you are going to get it.”

“If you want it so bad, then you go. I’ll blame it on insanity.”

“I just might.”  He put on his robe and boots.  Standing at the doorway he said, “Remember how she told you she didn’t want you to ever talk to her?”  Then he cleared his throat. “Remember how her friends parked on your flowerbeds last weekend?”

“Damn it! Fine I’ll take the freakn paper, but I’m not doing it for you.  It is revenge for my flowers.”