Man and Moose

 

It was a fine snowy morning in Denmark when the cockerel squawked its morning call, waking Tycho from his drowsy slumber of dreams that consisted of distant stars and calculations.  First things first – he felt his long, luxurious moustache, and with a relieved and smug expression he settled back down into his pillow. After all, he had the most regal moustache in all of Denmark, but which brought the fear of thieves coming to snip the beauties off in the night-time. Such thoughts ran shivers down Tycho’s spine! He patted his moustache lovingly once more, before setting off for breakfast in the parlour.

 

‘POSTAL DELIVERY!’ Cried a young voice from outside, just before Tycho could tuck into his jam toast. Annoyed, he gruffly lay his toast down and walked to the front door. He snuck a look outside of his letter plate begrudgingly, wondering who could be ruining his perfect day at this hour. ‘Can’t you just…put it through?’

 

‘Not this, sir! It’s…well…you’ll have to see for yourself…’

 

Tycho scowled and tied up his robe better. ‘Alright, alright, let’s see this ‘postal delivery’…’

 

His jaw fell to the ends of his moustache. Goodness gracious! What was this?! A gigantic cardboard box lay in front of his very eyes. Only the thinner side just managed to stuff itself through the door. After a few minutes of absolute dumbfounded silence, Tycho felt his vocal chords slowly recover. Yes; his state of shock was still profound, but gradually his senses came floating back to him. He cleared his throat calmly.

 

‘WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?!’

 

‘Your postal delivery, sir! I must be off and finish my job! Have a good day!’

 

‘Wait, wait, WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?! Tycho called out with his fist clenched in the air. He ran out into the street barefoot, his upper lip wobbling. His voice cried out more pitiful this time to the ever shrinking postman in the distance. ‘YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME WITH THIS! DON’T LEEEEAVE MEEEEE!’

 

But his cries were pointless now. Instead they woke the neighbours who gawped and guffawed at the famous Tycho Brahe in only a fluffy dressing gown. Tycho suddenly remembered his dignity and tiptoed back into his home, squirming every time he stood on a stone. Absolutely abominable! A gentleman like him, to be reduced to these embarrassing levels! –

 

But that wasn’t important now. He gawked intently at the cardboard box that lay in front of him. It was at this moment that Tycho suddenly felt a very strange sensation. He tried to brush it aside, yet it was a feeling that continued to pester him when he looked at the box. It was as if the box…was staring back at him. Tycho scratched his blonde head. A box staring at him, eh? Hm. Congratulations, a new level of insanity reached this morning.

 

He shook his head, and thought of the toast going cold in the parlour. His stomach made a rumbling gurgle of happiness when Tycho remembered him. He patted his stomach sympathetically, and decided to leave the box ‘til later and was ready to scoff down the lovely jam toast when suddenly…

 

Tycho dropped the toast on his plate and froze. Had he just heard…a shuffling sound? Slowly, Tycho turned his head round…