The drive to the call went faster than I expected – helps that there wasn't any traffic. Winter kinda does that sometimes. People hate getting out on icy roads and all, y'know? Dex stayed quiet, which was weird for him. Normally he was always talking about some city down south that he wanted to retire to, or how much of a jaggoff the mayor is, or some bullshit like that. It was nice to hear him shut up for a change, but that whole talk we had about him being a cigar or something kept running through my mind.
"Alright," I said, turning the wheel to the left. Through the windshield I could see the woman who'd made the call. Mrs. Winnefrod was a nice old bat, but crazier than Chuck Manson sometimes. She always wore this... nightgown thing. I dunno what the hell it was, but it was always some shade of blue whenever we showed up. I think the woman bathed in it, for chrissakes! Today wasn't any different, either. She stood on her porch, snow everywhere, in her blue nightgown, tapping her foot on the ice. God, she was even barefoot! What the hell was wrong with this woman?!
No comments:
Post a Comment