KAREN SAYS TALL

By Ben Greenman

from forthcoming collection, as yet untitled

In the early hours of Saturday morning Dewey McAllister and his wife Alice, who live in Woodcut Estates, a residential suburb roughly ten miles south of Change Lake, awoke to find a man in their bedroom. The intruder, who held in one hand a flashlight and in the other a knife, directed the couple to the kitchen, where he turned on the gas stove and demanded that the McAllisters tell him where they kept their money. “The bank,” said Mrs. McAllister, at which point Mr. McAllister began gibbering hysterically about a metal box in the spandrel. Once it was established exactly what a spandrel was, the man located it and opened it, finding only fifty dollars. “This is terrible,” he said, throwing it to the ground. The clatter awoke the McAllisters’ young daughter Karen, who ran into the kitchen screaming. “Hey,” the burglar said. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt anyone.” He turned off the gas and left. The man, who has not been apprehended, was described as “short” by Mrs. McAllister and “tall” by Karen. Mr. McAllister is still gibbering.