Chapter 8 – When Pigs Fly
Tuesday, August 12th, 2014
I stretched in my crappy Government Issue swivel chair. Three nights of sleeping in my old camper at the fairgrounds on a barely three inches thick mattress was already starting to wear on me. My back ached and the chair wasn’t helping.
Holly, my assistant, stepped through the door with a handful of printouts. “You look mighty uncomfortable there, Mel.”
“You don’t know the half of it!”
“You know, now that you’re the duly elected Sheriff and all, and this will be your office for the next four years, give or take, you could redecorate it and make it more comfortable for yourself.”
I shot her a look.
Holly raised her hands, palms out in mock protest, “Hey, just sayin’!”
“I honestly don’t intend to spend any more time in this office
