the heelers diaries in america

Morning in America.
A light breeze sifts the leaf fringed suburbs of Boston.
I am sitting at the kitchen table in my Aunty's home, leafing through the newspaper styled The Boston Globe.
My aunty Eileen is preparing vittles.
All seems right with the world.
A packet of biscuits leaps off the top of the fridge and lands on the floor.
Neither of us are anywhere near it.
I look at my aunt.
"Why did it do that Eileen?" I ask eyes wide and innocent.
"Oh James, things fall off shelves all the time," quoth she.
The noble Heelers nods.
Without further ado, I bless myself and begin to pray aloud the Hail Mary.
If you'd heard me gentle travellers of the internet you might have noticed an unusually sincere note in my voice.