It was a dark and stormy night when she walked into my office: “I’m in trouble,” she said.
“OK, what’s the deal-i-o,” I asked.
“There’s was this crazed raccoon following me...” her voice trailed off.
“We get these psycho possum/crazed raccoon stories all the time. What makes you so special, “ I asked.
“Well, I had to fight him and drown him in mud. I stuck my thumb in his mouth...” she replied.
“OK. OK.OK,” I replied. “We’ll try for the clemency route — no, wait...I GOT IT! We’ll say he was RABID!”
Just then the phone rang, I swiveled around in my chair, answered the phone and asked the caller to call back in an hour and turned around...
She was gone.
That’s the way it works in this business - a dame needs help with a Procyon, then she flits away.
Somewhere, outside, a dog was barking.
Sounds like you’ve go the makings of a short story or a song. :)
Paging Sam Hammett...
I liked the part about the dog barking.