Free The Phantom in the Mirror by John R. Erickson

Perhaps the family would have to abandon the house and move away.”
    â€œGosh, that’s awful.”
    â€œYes, Drover, but the awfulest part is that we have to sit up here and watch the tragedy unfold!”
    â€œYeah . . . unless we rushed down there and kept him from going under the house.”
    I stared at him in the moonlight. “What?”
    â€œI said . . . gosh, I don’t remember what I said.”
    â€œSomething about rushing.”
    â€œRushing. Nope, I guess I lost it.”
    â€œHmm. Well, it’s a pity that we have to sit here . . . wait a minute! Is there any reason why we’re just sitting here? Why couldn’t we rush down there and keep the skunk from going under the house?”
    â€œGee, I never thought of that.”
    â€œIt might work, Drover, but we’ll have to hurry. Are you ready for some combat?”
    â€œWell, I . . . not really.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI said, oh good. Combat. Oh boy.”
    â€œThat’s the spirit. We’ll go to Red Alert. I’ll meet you at the yard fence.”
    â€œYeah, if this old leg doesn’t quit on me.”
    And with that, we went streaking down the hill toward the fence—to save Sally May’s house and Christmas party from complete and total disaster!
    I went streaking down to the house, but you know what? On the way something happened. All at once I began to ask myself, “Why am I doing this? Why should I knock myself out for the same woman who recently called me a nincompoop and other hateful things?”
    I mean, I was just a “dumb dog,” right? The guy who went around eating string all the time, right? And throwing up on ladies’ houseshoes because I didn’t have anything better to do with my time, right?
    I reached the yard gate and sat down. Who needed it? Not me. Since I was so “dumb,” maybe what I needed to do was sit right there and watch the show. It might be fun, watching all the members of the Methodist Church choir evacuate the house when Rosebud went off.
    It WOULD be fun, come to think of it: the tenor section jumping through the bedroom window; the sopranos flying out the front door; the altos crawling up the chimney.
    Hmmm, yes. It’s been said that getting rich is the best revenge. Not true. The best revenge is REVENGE, and never mind the rich part. The best revenge is knowing what’s right and then doing what’s wrong, out of sheer spite and meanness.
    Hey, if Rosebud wanted to blow up the party, who was I to deny him his civil rights? It was a free country and skunks had rights too.
    I was sitting there, enjoying delicious wicked thoughts, when Drover came up, huffing and puffing. “Hi, Hank. Did I miss the fight? Boy, this old leg . . .”
    â€œRelax, Drover. We’ve cancelled the Red Alert. The Security Division has decided to go out on strike.”
    He stared at me. “What do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, we quit. Let the church choir go out and bark at the skunk. They have such wonderful voices, let’s see how well they can do on Skunk Patrol.”
    â€œGosh, I’ve never heard you talk like that before.”
    â€œI know, so let me try to explain it. Listen to this.”
    And before his very eyes, I sang this song.

Chapter Twelve: Unbelievable Ending! No Kidding

    P oor Me
    No one appreciates a hero like me.
    In spite of the fact that I’m trying to be
    Man’s very best friend and woman’s too,
    So what if I happened to barf on her shoe?
    My loyalty to her has never ceased,
    I’ve stayed by her side through war and through peace.
    I’ve guarded her kids and chicken coop,
    But still she insists I’m a nincompoop.
    Well fine, okay, it’s a poor-me kind of day.
    When you need a friend, just call me and I’ll look the other way.
    Poor me, poor pay! That’s all I have to say.
    That’s fine, all right, I’m out on strike,
    It’s a poor-me kind of day.
    I