He heard the letterbox clatter as he tended to the fire. He walked to the front door, still holding the poker in his hand.
Looking on the mat he saw that it was nothing but advertising, fast food menus and charity envelopes begging for his hard-earned cash.
He opened the door.
"Hey!" he shouted at the postman who was nearing the gate.
"Yes?"
"What the hell's all this?"
The man had the junk mail in his hand and was waving it irately at the postman.
"Your post."
"I don't want any of these."
He lurched towards the postman and cracked his skull like a nutshell with the poker.
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