Dawn was rising over the suburban swell of a small arid community, revealing all the signs of society. Nearly identical houses lined up in perfect rows, family vehicles mixed with gas chugging SUV's, unemptied trash bins from the night before, and of course stray animals. Towards the end of 25th street, one house stood out from all the others. It was a little larger, and its fence was a foot higher than the other whitewashed examples of privacy. Everyone knew who lived there, but most of them didn't really care. Oh sure they had all heard of people like him before, and had probably even seen the odd one before in their lives, but as yet it still wasn't the most common site in the world. Standing at six and a half feet tall, the anthro turtle stood out in a crowd. Spiked wrist and ankle bands didn't help the effect, nor did the spiked shell, or fiery crop of hair like spikes. Bowser had decided to retire here shortly after receiving yet another royalty payment for his use in so many video games. Not needing to work, he decided that getting a nice place in the suburbs would be preferable to some mansion somewhere in Hollywood. The human population around here seemed not to mind him being around, though anthropomorphic creatures still seemed to be a mystery to them all. Sure they had all been around for centuries, but they kept hidden and secluded. Hence werewolf sightings and the like.
"Morning Bowser"
The large turtle looked to his right, then downwards about half a foot. It was Vern, the local mailman. Bowser smiled pleasantly, waving over the fence-line with a gigantic, muscular arm.
"Morning, Vern. How's life treating you?"
"I can't complain." Replied the mailman, handing Bowser a small stack of mail.
"Well that's good to know. That old pit-bull down the street still causing you trouble?"
Vern actually smiled at that little crack, and looked down at his feet. Bowser leaned over the fence line somewhat, the wood creaking under his huge weight. What he saw was Vern's new pair of Steel toed boots. The turtle smiled once more, knowing full well that the dog must have a very sore posterior by now.
"Well how about that. Maybe it'll stop barking now too."
"Who knows, Bowser. Oh! One last thing for yah."
He handed over a simple looking package, wrapped in brown paper. Bowser took it up in his huge paws, and added it to the stack of stuff under one arm. Vern turned to leave, and waved his goodbyes.
"See yah later eh."
"Adios Vern."
The usual morning routine of speaking with the mail person was something that Bowser found he liked quite a bit. It was simple, didn't amount to very much of anything, but it was a solid constant connection to the outside world. He kept to himself most of the time aside from that, and occupied himself with personal upkeep. Walking back inside, he didn't bother to lock the door behind him. It was a small little community, less than ten thousand lived here. Most of the population drove to the next town, which held the majority of the white collar jobs in the area. Padding upstairs, he flipped on the TV, and went to make some breakfast. A dozen scrambled eggs and half a pack of bacon were quickly frying up in his jumbo skillet, the smell of sharp cheddar accompanying the scallions and garlic. Plunking himself at the kitchen table, he began to sift through the mail.
"Hmm, bill, bill, junk, bill... junk, feed the children, clothe the children, bathe the children? ... well they do smell funny."
The process continued for a good while, with the majority of the letters being disposed of, unopened. All that was left was the unmarked package, to which he slashed open with a deft stroke of his index finger. To his surprise, it was a super sized box of chocolates, with a little letter inside. He unfolded the note to see what it said.
