“Yes, this is Mason Dixon, District Manager for House District 100, I just listened to your message about the pit bulls…How can I help you, Mr. Reynolds…?”
“Yes sir, I am so glad that you returned my call. I really don’t know where else to turn. I’ve contacted just about every county official there is and no one seems to think this is
“Have you contacted any animal cruelty organizations?”
“Yes, yes I have, but they said that no laws are being violated as the dogs are on leashes and have access to food.”
“I see. What would you like us to do?” I continue to pack the cigarette on the desktop. It’s now that the absolute darkness of the hallway starts to work its black magic.
“Well, Mr. Dixon, I’m not sure. Have you received the packet of information I sent to your office?” I peer over at the inbox and see it sits unopened.
“Not yet, but I haven’t checked the P.O. Box in a few days,” (an obvious lie). “The post office is closed by now, but I’ll check in the morning.”
“They won’t be open tomorrow, sir. It’s the nation’s birthday.”
“Right, I’ll run by on Saturday, I mean.”
“Well, frankly, I’d like to show this place to you if you don’t mind. I think after you actually see it, you will be shocked. It really is a perversion, Mr. Dixon. Not to mention a threat to the public. We have families with small children in the area.”
“Yes, I heard your message.” I’m now paying more attention to the hallway than to the conversation at this point. “If you like, I’ll review the materials and give you a call
“Yes, yes, yes, that would be wonderful. I really appreciate your attention to this matter, Mr. Dixon.”
“It’s both my job and my pleasure, Mr. Reynolds.”
I hang up the phone and stuff the well-packed smoke between my lips. The whole path down the dark hallway has me feeling like there’s something, or someone, right behind me. As I unlock the rear door, a breath of cold air suddenly slaps the back of my neck! I jump. I shriek—shamefully…
…it’s the air conditioner kicking on.