As the month of June wound down, things remained relatively quiet. Officer Barnes and I did get anything beyond the average calls that dealt with relatively small level things. Routine calls. The fact that our work was relatively quiet was a bit of a relief to me. Tabby and Hireman were still trading barbs back and forth at each other for the race for School District Superintendent.
Hireman stuck to his very racist viewpoints, and commonly did what he could to make it look like his policies were basic policies designed to protect people. A lot of what Hireman did got under my nerves and a couple of days before the third debate was scheduled, I found myself at Joseph Patten’s front door. My shift was over for the day, and I had managed to keep from blowing up at anyone during my shift… but one of Hireman’s latest charges really got to me.
And it wasn’t really the charge itself that had me so angry. It was the fact that Hireman still either maintained a small fraction of a percentage point of a lead… or trailed by a fraction of a percentage point. It depended on the poll, and as hot as the race was shaping up, the Columbia Falls paper was taking polls almost daily to check for the slightest change in those polls.
“Officer Wayne,” Patten spoke when he opened the door.
“Hello, sir,” I said slowly, “may I talk with you?”
“Sure,” Patten replied, “come on in.”
He stepped aside and let me come into his home. Once I was in, he shut the door behind me.
“Did Clemens make it back to Florida safely?” I asked.
“Yes,” Patten nodded, “and he asked me to tell you that he wishes you and Molly the best.”
I nodded and then sighed, “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
Patten nodded again, “You’re angry at something. I don’t know what… but I know it’s something. And it’s a good thing you came to talk with me…”
I nodded as this was part of the conversation Patten and I had had before Molly and I had left during the time when Patten’s cousin was visiting. He had volunteered his services as a sort of “anger management counselor” and for the sake of controlling my temper and preventing a situation like the drug dealers that Officer Barnes and I had brought in erupting that would result in bad news for me and possibly worse for Molly.
“Would you mind if we did this downstairs?” Patten asked, “we would have privacy down there.”
“I do not mind,” I slowly shrugged and then followed him.
He lead me through his home to the stairs that lead to his basement. The stairs were old and somewhat rickety. I was nervous that I would end up falling through the boards as I went down them, as I heard creaking noises as I went down the stairs. Thankfully, the stairs did hold my weight.
Patten’s basement was a large rectangle of cinderblock walls. There was next to no decoration in it whatsoever, and it carried a very Spartan appearance. A small wooden towel rack stood by one wall with towels on it, and a wall clock hung a little bit above it. The cracks in the cinderblock from where Patten had hammered the nail in were extremely obvious, even with the size of the clock. And hanging from a wooden beam in the ceiling was a large punching bag, that looked like it was half my weight… though I couldn’t really guess how big it actually was.
“So… what is eating you at the moment, Officer Wayne?” Patten asked directly.
I slowly approached the punching bag and pushed at it with one paw. It easily moved backward on the chain that it was suspended from. As I did so, I gave a heavy sigh.
“It’s the election,” I answered, “and all the stupid… all the stupid shit that Hireman is pulling.”
“You’re not planning on mauling him, are you?” Patten questioned.
“No,” I answered, “I’d certainly like to. Teach that racist pig a thing or two… but that would be counter productive, and might prove him right… the only thing that can be done about him is to vote him out. That isn’t the issue that I have.”
“Then what is it?” Patten asked.
I sighed again, “it’s the fact that people keep agreeing with him… everything he says is racist… or tinged with racism… and people still listen to him. Every poll either has him just behind Tabby or just ahead of her… and all he’s given are racist talking points.”
“Not all that he’s said or promised is racist,” Patten corrected, “he certainly is racist and I’d like to see him go just as much as you do, I’d suspect. But, not everything he’s said is racist.”
“But it’s still the biggest issue in the present race!” I countered, “I mean… if Tabby came out with some ridiculous and racist statement the other way… not only would it be self-defeating if she wins… but she’d be behind in the polls heavily!”
“It is the biggest issue, George, but it isn’t the only issue,” Patten answered, “I’ve run a few private checks of my own. My own private polling, to see how to give Mrs. Choir an edge in the race. And on the issues that relate to Molly, Tabby does have a commanding lead. Ninety percent of Columbia Falls is against firing her or going through with Hireman’s ideas in that regard. Likely a sign that Hireman’s initial attack… using my own argument out of context… is firmly broken.”
I sensed a “but” coming.
“But Hireman has served here for three terms now,” Patten replied, “and in those three terms, he hasn’t done a bad job. Now… it’s a sign that he was hiding these racist tendencies from the public for a long time… or the fact that you and Molly aren’t human that has brought it out…”
“It’s still racism,” I replied.
“You have no argument from me,” Patten answered in a firmer tone, responding to the slight growling edge my voice had taken, “he is racist… but he’s a smart man. I’d bet he’s realized that if he continues to try and use his racist arguments that he will lose. So he’s playing to his history over the past three terms that he’s served… and since Mrs. Choir is new to this, a lot of people may overlook Hireman’s racism if they think that the rest of the school system will fall apart if Hireman loses.”
I didn’t say anything.
“It’s a standard political tactic,” Patten answered, “if you’re beaten on one issue, go fishing for an issue that you can win on… and Hireman seems to be playing to his experience as the School District Superintendent.”
“He’s still wrong,” I grumbled, “People should realize that.”
“They probably do,” Patten replied, “but sometimes people will follow what they want to see rather then what they know to be right or wrong. It’s why people in Montana commonly vote for whoever promises to cut taxes at the national level…”
I only answer with a low and frustrated sounding growl.
“I don’t like it either, Officer Wayne,” Patten answered, “but that is the way the world works.”
“How do you put up with all of this?” I asked after a moment.
“Mostly hitting that punching bag until I’m too tired to hit it anymore,” Patten shrugged, “Go on ahead… maybe it’ll help…”
I glanced at him for a moment, turned and then delivered a strong blow with my right fist into the punching bag. The blow produced a loud “thump” and the bag swung backwards about a foot before swinging back toward me.
“I don’t think it worked,” I said weakly, “Hireman is still a racist pig.”
“Life can’t imitate Disney, Officer Wayne,” Patten answered.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Patten and I talked for a little while longer after that. I still grumbled heavily against Hireman’s racism, but Patten was quick to correct me if I grumbled too much or got something wrong. When I eventually left Patten’s home, I actually felt in a much better mood. It was as if getting those feelings off of my chest was enough alleviate my anger for awhile.
And that was key, as the third debate between Wayne Hireman and Tabby Choir was fast approaching. And because the School District Superintendent race was becoming more and more contested, the third debate was to be held in the High School Gym. To a great extent it was a sign that Hireman had never faced any real opposition or a real race before, but as Molly and I made our way in to watch the debate, there was only one real thing that would be a victory against Hireman’s policies… Tabby Choir being voted in and Wayne Hireman being voted out.
A large crowd of people had appeared for the debate. One even larger then the audiences that witnessed the two previous debates combined. I could see Officer Jenkins in one section of the stands as Molly and I made our way in. The bleacher seats proved more then strong enough to support our weight, but we found that they were spaced so closely together that it was a rather tight fit for us in the bleachers. Particularly as all of the seats in the front row were taken.
“It’s George and Molly, right?” a voice spoke to us after a few moments after we had sat down.
I looked over to see a relatively young couple seated next to us.
“Yes,” I nodded.
“Thomas and Angela Qickfield,” the man spoke and shook Molly’s hand and then mine.
“Qickfield…” Molly mused at the name.
“You had Patrick and Timothy in your class… when your class after Mrs. Fitzpatrick was promoted to principal,” Angela Qickfield gave Molly the information she was looking for.
“They are our foster sons,” Thomas added.
“Oh!” Molly spoke softly, “are they well? I haven’t seen them at the Summer Sun program…”
“A lot of what I do for work coincides with the school year,” Angela answered, “so with school out… I have the time to stay at home with them during the summer… though they do talk about you a lot.”
Molly slowly nodded. The two boys had probably saved the school for their bravery during Williams’ attack on the school. Officer Howard wanted to give the two boys a special medal for their bravery, but with the station finally returning to normal after Williams’ attack, there wasn’t enough money to afford even a small one in the department’s budget.
“Excited about going into First Grade next fall?” Molly asked.
“No, mostly depressed that you’re not teaching First Grade,” Angela answered, “but they will do fine.”
And so far, things had gone well for the two boys. Some of it was a small miracle in its own right. The wounds they sustained in Williams’ attack on the school were relatively small and didn’t require anything major to stabilize their condition. Which had been a good thing. If they had, things could have been worse.
I was fairly certain their blood types didn’t match Molly’s. Molly had a relatively rare blood type, which apparently hadn’t changed when she became a tigress. Some of that was fairly surprising as I had read somewhere that animals commonly had very different blood types from humans. Of course, maybe the Animatrix Serum in mine and Molly’s blood corrected for that and would rewrite the blood types of anyone who might potentially receive blood from either of us to match ours. My blood type, when I was human, was fairly common… but even there, because it would result in the creation of more Tiger-People, Molly and I wouldn’t give blood unless it was absolutely necessary.
And if they had a blood type that matched Molly’s, there would have been serious legal problems. The laws that Beauregard had forced through when Molly and I moved to Columbia Falls were very strict and very stringent. When the Mountain Lion attacked Megan Jenkins, Molly broke those laws because there was no other compatible donor available. The school nurse had Molly’s blood type on some form somewhere and stated that Molly was the only compatible donor in that instant.
The fact that there was no compatible donor in the Mountain Lion incident was enough to get the City Council to repeal the ordinances that Beauregard had gotten them to vote in in the first place. Likely realizing that the measures went far beyond what was acceptable. However, if Timothy and Patrick’s blood types matched Molly’s, it would have been a very different issue. Now, children didn’t give blood, and wouldn’t be accepted as donors. But, if they two boys did match Molly’s blood type, it would also mean that they matched Megan Jenkins’ blood type. By the letter of the ordinances Beauregard had forced through, if they did match Megan Jenkins’ blood type, the paramedics would have had to use the two boys before Molly could even be considered. And it would have lead to Molly and the school nurse being fired. Molly for giving blood, and the nurse for not retrieving the HUMAN compatible donors.
Of course, maybe the nurse knew what a load of BS Beauregard’s pushed through ordinances were and didn’t mention the two boys because they were children and weren’t qualified to give blood by their age.
If that was true, it would mean that Timothy and Patrick’s blood types might match Molly’s, but it would still mean that they wouldn’t match mine… but as the two foster parents had said, they were doing well and that their biggest problem was that Molly wouldn’t progressively teach the higher grades so she could be their teacher every year. A sign that the kids still loved the “Tiger-Lady” and that things were well.
Molly was about to say something when the person who was moderating this debate stepped to a small “x” taped to the floor.
“Welcome citizens of Columbia Falls to the third debate between Tabitha Choir and Wayne Hireman for the post of School District Superintendent of the Columbia Falls School District,” the moderator spoke.
The third debate had begun.