I quickly pulled away and raced to work. All the way there I mentally gave myself reasonable explanations as to how my neighbor’s yard-fertilizing dog could’ve died. My mind entering Delilah and killing the dog certainly didn’t qualify as rational, did it?

As usual, I got to Pure Sound Audio Systems a few minutes late. Because I’m on salary and because I almost always stay late, no one said anything to me about it. I’d also decided that just because I couldn’t think of a rational explanation for the dog incident didn’t mean that there wasn’t one.

The neighbor said that he’d called the police. So what? I just can’t imagine the cops doing more than asking me a few routine questions. If I’d wanted the dog dead, I’d simply poison the pooch or put a bullet in its head; the cops would know that. The only thing that could’ve sucked the fluids from that dog is a vampire or a hairy, overgrown, eight-legged…

I decided to get my mind on work. The assembly line I supervised had 30 people who worked for me. The line usually ran fairly well since I had a self-sufficient crew. Among this crew was only one man who I considered to be a problem child. His name was Frank Oz.

Frank was anything but a team player. Not only was he a long-haired, foul-mouthed, pot smoking brat, but he was almost always the number one source of complaining, gossiping and rumor starting. He came in late even more often than I did. He also bullied his way into working whatever job on the line he wanted.

So why didn’t I just fire him? It’s simple. His step-father owns Pure Sound. Frank knows as well as I that he has a life time job. I’ve often wondered why Frank doesn’t get a higher paying position. I think it’s because he gets so much enjoyment out of tormenting me and everyone else on my line. Even without a higher paying job, I’m sure his step-dad, Henry, doesn’t let him go without.

Sometimes it seems my life is nothing but one long series of arguments. After all the yelling and screaming I’d done at both my wife and my neighbor yesterday, I hoped for a break today. Frank Oz had other ideas.

The subject of our argument is unimportant. Besides, with Frank, argument content is never as important as argument volume. I lost my temper and actually made the threat of firing him in front of a group of others. Unexpectedly, he shut up long enough for me to stomp off to my office. I stewed for the rest of the day and didn’t leave my desk until well after quitting time.

If I was angry at Frank earlier, then I became absolutely livid when I walked out to the parking lot and found my Chevy Blazer sitting on four flat tires. A murderous rage invaded me like a dark, malevolent presence. With great effort, I managed to regain control of myself.

I used my cell phone to call both AAA and my wife. I went to the security department while I waited on her and the tow truck. The guard helped me review several security cameras overlooking the parking lot. The two of us watched as Frank Oz was caught on film knifing the tires of my truck. Later, after my Blazer was heading for a nearby garage on a flat bed truck, Joanie drove me home.

I remember thinking on the way home that all I wanted was a hot bath, a hot meal and an hour of vegetation in front of the tube. As we pulled into the driveway, I realized I’d get none of those things. There waiting on my front porch were both my neighbor and a local police officer. I sighed. It was going to be a long night.

I was right. It was a long night. In the end, the police officer left empty handed. Not only was there no evidence against me, I also had Joanie as an alibi concerning my whereabouts during last night. As the cop drove off, I saw the gleam in my neighbor’s eye; he was feeling pretty good about himself.