Edmund woke up the next morning to the sound of his cell phone ringing. Had he turned the volume up? It definitely should not be that loud. He fumbled and turned on the light switch and, when the lights came on, discovered someone had started whacking the back of his head with a mallet.
He finally got his hands on the phone and just as he went to hit the button, it stopped ringing, but he’d recognized Molly’s number. Also, it was 9:30, which was much later than he usually slept. He dragged himself out to his little kitchen counter, then called her back.
“Hey babe,” Molly chirped. “How’d it go?”
Edmund said, “Hi Molly.” Or, at least, that was the plan. But he found out his mouth was full of cat fur. He coughed and managed, “Just a sec,” before he got himself a glass of water.
“Hi,” he said. Whoever was wielding that mallet was still hard at work.
“Are you okay, Ed?” she asked. From her tone of voice, he could picture the wide-eyed concern on her face.
“Your father,” long inhale, another drink of water, “is a bad influence.”
“What?”
“I have not had a hangover for six—seven, for seven years. But I have one now. The man is a bad influence.”
Edmund got up and poured himself another glass of water. “Also,” he continued, “I think I promised to go deer hunting with him and your brother in October.… I think. I’m not completely sure on that one.”
He heard Molly laughing on the other end of the phone. “So it went well.”
“Look, can you give me a ride back to my truck before work?
“If I hurry, sure. I’ll be there soon.”
“Thank you. I’m going to go lie down in a dark room until you arrive.”
“Hey Ed.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad he likes you.”
Edmund only grunted in response. Molly laughed again and hung up.
The Mayor of Christ Mountain 
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