WINNEMUCCA, NV — The Jorgensen family's home lies in a sea of residences, each more vulnerable than the last, ignorant of the numerous daily threats that seek nothing more than to infiltrate the innocent abode and cause a plethora of unspeakable harms upon them. Fortunately for the Jorgensens, a single, heroic dog stands alone as the family's sole protection against these threats.
Alert, attentive, and willing to sacrifice his life to guard this last bastion of safety for the Jorgensens, Mr. Tickles scans up and down the street from his perch on the floral-patterned sofa near the bay window. He feels, deep in his soul, the honorary bloodline of his ancient ancestors welling up inside him, urging him to carry on the generational honor of protecting the most vulnerable race of all: Humans.
Is that...is that a delivery truck? It may just be, and it's heading straight toward the home, completely unaware of the absolute magnitude of ferocity awaiting it if it sets a single foot — Oh, minivan. Typically safe, full of small, annoying humans.
Resuming his survey of the front lines, Mr. Tickles — his ancestral name passed down from those who went before him sounds much more savage — runs through the complete list of possible threats in his alert mind, wondering how his family, in their naive tranquility, have left themselves susceptible to harm: UPS guy, FedEx guy, the free-roaming cat, the Horowitz kids (they're total jerks), the squirrel out back, any flying insect, and worst of all, the Amazon Driver.
The accursed Amazon Driver. His deceptive nonchalance and lazy manner may fool everyone else, but there is no fooling Mr. Tickles. The vanguard of protection for the Jorgensens can see right through the Amazon Driver's thin beard, regrettable neck tattoo, and stained t-shirt to view, as clear as a bright gray sky, that behind the facade is an evil desire to maim and destroy.
Ah, my nemesis. He has arrived. As if conjured from the bowels of Hell, the Amazon Driver swoops into view, sitting in his blue chariot of death and sometimes yummy-smelling boxes. Then the Amazon Driver stops in front of the Jorgensen's home as if to mark this day, this hour, this singular moment as the battle of battles, the gory engagement that would decide the fate of the Jorgensens.
Bring it on fiend, but know this: To my last, dying breath, I will never yield.
Like a tornado of teeth and claws, Mr. Tickles, with every highly-trained fiber in his body, barks and snarls through the bay window as the enemy saunters up the sidewalk to the front porch. The proud creature continues his barrage, spittle flying, teeth bared, as the clever Amazon Driver feigns as if to trip while climbing the steps to set down its threatening little cube of cardboard, yet never ceasing his approach.
Will Mr. Tickles be overcome? The adversary continues, undaunted, unphased. Does he have the courage to pay the ultimate sacrifice? There seems to be no stopping the inevitable destruction of everything he holds dear.
Then, as if the fates have a different plan for Mr. Tickles and the Jorgensens, the doom-bringing Amazon Driver stops, sets down its parcel, wiggles its evil fingers at the fearsome defender in the bay window, and turns around in fearful retreat.
Bolstered by this surprising upheaval on the battlefield, Mr. Tickles ups his attack, barking and barking, and adding a few valiant yelps as his great enemy hops, defeated, into his blue chariot and disappears down the street.
I have done it. I have overcome the great demon. The Amazon Driver is no more until tomorrow.
Body and soul wrung out like a bloodied and torn war banner, the courageous Mr. Tickles hops down from the bay window to make sure the Jorgensens remain uninjured and to check on the squirrel out back.
Citing concerns about stiff competition from Amazon and an impossible-to-please Gen Z, Santa has announced he's hanging up the hat for good.
