An Isolated Incident

An Isolated Incident

Lewis Presley sat across from the two officers in his living room.

“Nobody knows what happened.”

He stared at the one who’d spoken first.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“We believe it was an isolated incident, a random attack.”

Lewis fingered his bandaged head and shifted the cast on his left arm as it rested in a black sling.

“Don’t you believe me? It is neither of those things. If they hadn’t been interrupted, I am certain I would be dead.”

“Did you compile that list we requested?” asked one of the officers, who’s nametag read ‘Miles Legume.”

“Of course. In alphabetical order and numbered according to the level of threat I feel.

“Tell us a little about these names.”

Lewis did as he was asked, while Miles jotted notes on the list. The two cops stood up.

“We’ll call on you again if we have any more questions or if we make an arrest, Mr. Presley.” Miles said as they left.

Miles looked at his watch, took another pain pill and soon nodded off.

The sound of someone falling over his ottoman woke him suddenly. Lewis peered into the dark. A penlight came on and was immediately pointed right into his eyes. He threw his hand up to shield them.

“I guess a beating wasn’t enough for you, was it Lew?”

“What do you mean, whoever you are?”

“You had to call the cops, didn’t you?”

Lewis reached over to the table beside his chair and switched on the light. As he did so, a gun was fired four times. No pain, no blood, he was alive!”

“I don’t believe this! I just got this pistol out of your bedside table.”

“I never keep it loaded with live rounds, I got grandkids that visit, you know!”