CHAPTER 2...Cue The Brain

An interesting thing about Phil, was that his brain seemed to actively plot against him in a myriad of ways.  Including, but not limited to, forcing him to use different accents for different states of mind.

"Well." Phil said, a little rusty with his Scottish accent, (Lying, by the way, being a Scottish rule - not that Phil's brain in any way associated dishonesty with Scotsman; I think it just thought the accent was funny to hear people lie, in) "I'll be taken' that there wee package if yee doon't mind, laddie as its tOtally fer mee...agh."

The delivery boy's eyes narrowed at Phil, "You weren't Scottish a minute ago, mister..." 

Thinking fast, Phil's brain told him what to say. "That's because the package is for..."

"ME!!" interrupted a limping, ample bodied woman, slightly behind him, in a fairy-like voice.  "The package is for me, sonny!" and, tossing him a coin, she gave him a flirty wink that spoke, "I want you."  

The lad, blushed a deep vermilion, forgot all about the accent, stumbled down the dimly lit porch steps and disappeared out into the rainy darkness with thoughts of cheese, haggis, cleavage and sheep on his mind.