Dear Diary,
What a day it was today! I thought the phone would never stop ringing. I live in a tiny corner of Nevada at the foot of the Sierras, so you would think that things would be very quiet here. And usually they are, but that reporter who was at the hotel the other night, when that woman was killed, apparently worked for some national gossip sheet. He, or maybe his editor, thought that I made a good story for their front page. Great, now people all over the country can get a gander at my working clothes while they wait to buy their groceries. Until today I had a listed phone number. But now that people think they've located an expert, they all want to find out if their next door neighbor or the librarian is a dragon. I can't seem to convince them that I can't tell over the phone about people I've never met. And not all dragons are villains. By about nine this morning I stopped trying to explain, by ten I was hanging up on them, and by noon, I just unplugged the phone, although I hated to do it. But my family and the police have my cell number in case of emergency. I'm going to bed! Nite .
No comments:
Post a Comment