He closed the magazine and tossed it in the recycling, then opened a folder of applications for a housing complex in the Rockaways that had three vacancies and a waitlist fifteen hundred names long. He was supposed to go out there and inspect the place for a bunch of maintenance violations. He looked at the list: tenant intimidation and harassment, unlawful evictions, unlit corridors, extensive mold, repair work done at unauthorized times of day, broken locks. He took a deep breath and noted that the developer just happened to be the mayor’s wife’s cousin. A total coincidence, I’m sure, Mitchell hummed to himself.

From down the hall came a clicking trot. Mitchell waited for the knock that preceded a familiar head popping around the door.

13.

Mitchell was all wound up about the mayor, and Alfonzo didn’t feel up to revealing what had happened with Dr. Vinograd just yet, so as they headed out of City Hall to get lunch, Alfonzo listened to his friend’s familiar kvetching.

“Shergar is a swayback nightmare, sure, but the real problem is all the other schmucks who prop him up, who convince animals to vote for him. It’s an abusive-father, big-leader situation. They think that by siding with the bully, they’ll be exempt from his hooves. It’s like some delusion that by trotting along behind, you, too, can one day be a boss. We’ll be a world of bosses. Ha!”

“Umm-hum.”

“And you know what’s really insane is that article doesn’t even touch sea politics. Post-hurricane policy is the real story, but it’s just glossed over. Like ‘Of course we’re all united against sea aggression.’ So, my question is, is there even such a thing as sea aggression? Since when did we all decide sea creatures aren’t fellow animals? They tell this story as if it’s always been the case, but land and sea have always been connected. It’s insane. Have we forgotten there would be no life without the sea? ‘Tough on the ocean’ becomes the cornerstone of the mayor’s appeal, and the journalist pretends it isn’t even happening.”

“Hum.”

“You know who probably ate up that whole article? Old Spots, obviously. I mean, I wouldn’t even be surprised if he was that unnamed source praising the mayor. The pig would eat the mayor’s shit all day and then scramble for breath mints if the mayor so much as wrinkled a nostril. So sorry for my stink, Mayor, that pig would say. Ugh, just thinking about Old Spots gets me all spitty. It’s always the bullies who are also groveling kiss-asses. You know what I mean?”

“Umm-hum.”

“He’s such an herb. You know he comes to me every day to talk about water rights? Like would it kill him to recognize another creature’s existence? I mean it probably would.”

“Hum.”