Saturday Night Silliness -- Random Musings of a Writer Lady and Her Cat.

Scotch looked at Pen. “You’re dressed.” “Dressing is one what one typically does when one’s had an intruder.” “So much for Plan A.” He looked around the kitchen. Scotch reached out and lifted the bag from Pen’s kitchen can. “We’ll go with Plan B. Do you have your keys?” Pen tapped at her left leg pocket and felt her keys. “Yes.” “Lock the door behind you. It’s time to rustle a few bushes and see how many pheasant come flying out. How do we get out?” The pair step out into the empty hallway. Pen pointed to a darkened stairwell at the far end. “The agency cleared this?” Scotch asked as they made their way down the stairs. “The light bulbs need replacing.” She said as they exited the building. “It’s going to be fixed on Monday.” “How long has it been that way?” “Three weeks.” “Three weeks?” Scotch repeated and shook his head. “Why didn’t the agency move your approval to move in date back until after the repair had been made? It’s standard pro

The moment that Scotch exited the living room Pen went in the other direction. She returned to her bedroom and with a flip of the light switch she began counting. “One.” Pen shut the door. “Two.” She retrieved clean panties from a stack of clothes that had been neatly laid out on a chair and put them on. “Three.” Bra was secured into place. “Four.” Blouse pulled overhead and smoothed out. “Five.” Pants put on. “Six.” Pen snatched a stun gun and her keys off of the top of her dresser and opened the door, heading back through the living room and into the kitchen. She found Scotch standing next to her stove. He was looking at an apple that had been placed in on its center between the burners. The apple had been impaled with one of Pen’s cooking knives. A piece of paper was attached. “What is it?” Pen asked. “It’s for you. A fan letter.” Pen looked a Scotch questioningly. He looked around the small kitchenette, spotting her dish washing gloves, he put them on and gen