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Reminds me of when I was a boy. Davy Crockett raccoon-skin caps were all the rage, and every kid I knew had one (a cap, not a rage). One enterprising young person who shall remain forever nameless (I'm not sure what the statute of limitations is, but I bet they haven't yet run out for the postman involved, and old and rickety as he may be today, if he still lives, he would dearly love to know who to kill) stuffed one of those caps, purloined from his younger brother just for the purpose, into a neighbor's mailbox.
The miscreant thought about it for a while. A wad of hairy something or other in a mailbox might give someone a start, but it wasn't sufficient for major excitement. So he set a large rat trap under it with a string tied between the trigger on the trap and the lid of the mailbox. Then he tossed a handful of rubber spiders on top of the cap. And a small rubber snake.
The postman was a nice enough young fellow, but he was very nervous. Back then people pretty much let their pets run loose, and various dogs had already taken their toll of his nerves, as well as ruining several pairs of trousers. Some dogs had taken to hiding behind bushes along his route and springing sudden ambushes, so as you can imagine he reacted as if someone had goosed him with a cattle prod whenever anything hairy appeared suddenly. Add that to the fact that many mailboxes were inhabited by black widow spiders and that our semi-rural area was blessed with a plentiful supply of venomous snakes.
Most of the older postmen had made friends with the dogs along their routes. This one didn't like dogs. As he walked his route his antennae were acutely attuned for the next outrage upon his dignity.
The young man who set the trap wasn't satisfied with watching from a distance as it sprung on his unsuspecting victim. No, he had to be right there. So he had no one to blame but himself that he should be casually strolling by, whistling nonchalantly and so full of laugh he could hardly hold it in, when the postman opened that box.
The boy didn't mean any harm. He proved that a short time later when, as his mother was applying Band-Aids and liniment to most parts of his body, he told her to please hurry, because he had to go back outside and help the postman retrieve the mail that was scattered over half the neighborhood. And they had to do something about the dirt flung up from in front of the mailbox where the postman had fought for traction on the damp ground.
Editor's note:
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