MICKEY HAD BEEN IN POLICE WORK FOR 35 YEARS.

FINALLY SICK OF THE STRESS, HE QUITS HIS JOB AND BUYS 50 ACRES OF LAND AS FAR FROM HUMANITY AS POSSIBLE.

HE SEES THE POSTMAN ONCE A WEEK AND GETS GROCERIES ONCE A MONTH.

OTHERWISE, IT’S TOTAL PEACE AND QUIET:

AFTER SIX MONTHS OR SO OF ALMOST TOTAL ISOLATION, SOMEONE KNOCKS ON HIS DOOR.

HE OPENS IT AND AN OLD MAN IS STANDING THERE.

“NAME’S CLIFF, YOUR NEIGHBOR FROM FORTY MILES UP THE ROAD. I’M HAVING A CHRISTMAS PARTY ON FRIDAY NIGHT. I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT LIKE TO COME AT ABOUT 5:00 PM!”

“GREA.” SAYS MICKEY. “AFTER SIX MONTHS OUT HERE, I’M READY TO MEET SOME LOCAL FOLKS. THANK YOU.”

AS CLIFF IS LEAVING, HE STOPS.

“GOTTA WARN YOU, THERE’LL BE SOME DRINKING.”

“NOT A PROBLEM.” SAYS MICKEY. “AFTER 25 YEARS IN THE BUSINESS, I CAN DRINK WITH THE BEST OF ‘EM.”

AGAIN, THE OLD MAN STARTS TO LEAVE AND STOPS. “MORE ‘N’ LIKELY GONNA BE SOME FIGHTING TOO.”

“WELL, I GET ALONG WITH PEOPLE, I’LL BE ALL RIGHT!.

I’LL BE THERE. THANKS AGAIN.”

“MIGHT BE SOME WILD S*X, TOO.”

“NOW THAT’S REALLY NOT A PROBLEM!” SAYS MICKEY, WARMING TO THE IDEA.

“I’VE BEEN ALL ALONE FOR SIX MONTHS! I’LL DEFINITELY BE THERE. BY THE WAY, WHAT SHOULD I WEAR?”

CLIFF REPLIES.

“DON’T MUCH MATTER. JUST GONNA BE THE TWO OF US.”