Emails Galore!

"Not another stinking email!"

Jared was completely disgruntled. He'd been getting several dozen emails a day from the same person and was fed up with his mailbox being so full. Meanwhile…

"Are you serious?"

Kelly's phone was vibrating again and again. She was in the library and everyone around her was throwing dirty looks at her for making the entire table buzz with her phone on it. All the while…

"That's it!"

Gavin was about to throw something. His phone had died because it was buzzing every ten seconds from the emails he was constantly getting.

It seemed that the whole ward was in an outrage from all the emails. Who was the culprit? Jeff. After all it was he that was forwarding all the emails from the ward communication email account. It seemed though that recently, it had been enough. Wasn't it his job to weed out the emails advertising birthday parties for friends of friends who weren't even in the ward? Shouldn't he have known that it wasn't necessary to have the ward tell us every hour on the hour what time it was? And why does he continue sending those emails that update us how far along we should be in our reading verse by verse throughout the day? The ward had had enough and it was the last straw.

There was a small mob gathered around 209. The pitchforks and torches were back (they found them cluttered around the stairs leading to the basement). They knocked and to everyone's surprise, out came Riley.

"Riley! What the heck? Aren't you dead?"

"Um. Well, it's just a game, remember?"

"Oh…" There was an awkward pause.

Riley looked at their torches. "Are those lit with kerosene?"

Someone piped up, "No, it's actually sunflower seed oil."

"Oh, okay. Good, I was going to say…with the smell…" Riley said, "Anyway, Jeff's just inside. Carry on, carry on."

With Riley out of sight, they regained their rage and formulated a plan. On the count of three they barged in and found Jeff in the kitchen, donning an apron and slippers, making bread.

"Don't you guys know how to knock?"

"Oh—uh, right—" The crowd awkwardly jammed through the door again. There was a slight pause and then a polite knock on the door.

"It's open! Come on in!" they heard.

Excellent…

It was the last thing anyone had heard from Jeff. When Riley got back, he found the bread just about done in the oven, filling the kitchen with that smell of awesome that homemade bread gives. Riley went onto his computer and checked his email. It was empty. Strange. How very strange indeed.