Frigg | Spring/Summer 2023 | Broken Doorbell | Peter Anderson
Broken Doorbell Peter Anderson
Last night the doorbell rang. When I opened the front door, three wolves were standing there under the porch light, holding brochures. They looked nervous. They kept looking up and down the street as if expecting an angry mob to come after them any second. They said they were collecting for a charity, or could I give them directions, or something something the afterlife or were we satisfied with our current internet provider. It was hard to tell exactly what because they didn’t enunciate very well. They were canines, after all. I said I was sorry but not right now, and then lied that we were eating dinner. They seemed disappointed but said nothing, just slunk off into the night without looking back. The smallest of the three paused in the middle of the sidewalk and lifted a leg. Who is it, asked my wife from the living room. Nobody, I replied, just the doorbell.
Peter Andersons Comments
Our doorbell occasionally rings when no one is there. It might be a rogue radio signal, or a dying battery, I don’t know. One night I answered the door and saw two coyotes—not to be mistaken for wolves—walking down the middle of the street, singing.