The Post Office of Doctor Moreau (1/5) By Kenton Hall

(1/5), (2/5), (3/5), (4/5), (5/5). Part 1.

Previously on The Post Office of Doctor Moreau... Sandy (tears in her eyes): But, Jonas, I love you. Jonas (squinting): I know that, Sandy. But you must know this. I can not love anyone. My life is one of danger. Of intrigue. Of brooding handsomely in wine bars. Sandy (suspiciously): Uh-huh. Jonas: Yes. I am a lone wolf, prowling the streets of a desperate world and occasionally clawing back a thin, jerky-style strip of humanity for the good guys.

Sandy (narrowing her eyes ever further): What's her name? Jonas: I just told you. I am a lone wolf.

Sandy: What's HIS name then? Jonas: Sandy, I don't think this is really the time for crass jokes. Sandy (grabbing him by the throat): Alright, then, Mr. Wolf. Do you wanna know what time it IS? Jonas (slightly strangled): Sandy.. Sandy: It's woodcutter time... (she raises a stiletto-heeled foot in the general direction of Jonas' groin)

Jonas (panicked): Look, Sandy, we can talk about this... Sandy: Ah, bite me.

AND NOW.... Dr. Samuel Moreau had been a painter once, before the accident. Just the once, mind, on holiday - but his single watercolour landscape was a thing of beauty. Artistic stamina notwithstanding, there was no doubting his genius. There's a glow that surrounds such people, of such intensity that, were it not metaphorical, would suggest that they had recently fallen into a vat of toxic waste and would do well to check for extra limbs or an abrupt surplus of genitalia.

Moreau's gift - and curse - was an ability to see things as they should be, rather than how they were. His life was spent in the pursuit of attaining that perfection, one moment, mood or outcome at a time. They were those who say that one man's perfection is another man's hell, but they only said it a couple of times and they were pretty drunk. Anyone who witnessed Moreau at the height of his powers was in no doubt that what he saw through those big grey eyes of his was a world beyond our wildest dreams.

Continued...Next Page (2/5)

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