Feel better

It's like squeezing pus out, you think it's empty and there's still more in there. I feel slightly better after at least venting on record. And I've outlined my demands. Always good to have demands. I have a chance of getting demands met, no chance for getting paid to put up with these headaches.

I was going to work on "The Blue Man on the Porch," but have discovered that I left that folder at home. Since I don't trust my little car notebook to hold it indefinately, you get a sneak peek.

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"Are you injured?" The younger officer with sympathetic blue eyes asked.

"No, I'm fine."

"Officer H is going to check the rest of the house. Show me where you saw the intruder."

Cyndia lead him into the living room while his partner headed down the hall. "I was reading on the couch. I got up and saw him at the front door. Grabbed empty shotgun and he was gone. Backed away and called 911, Officer?"

"Peterson. Did you notice if he was bleeding?"

"No, but I only saw waist up. He was blue and had a butcher knife. You found blood out there?"

Officer Peterson frowned. "What do you mean he was blue?"

"His face was blue."

"A mask?"

"No, his skin was blue." Cyndia pressed against the door window trying to see the blood they had seen.

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The BookWorm