The Ivory and the Ebony: The Ploy

I froze. What would happen? I felt Mom get up and walk to the door. It slowly creaked open. “Can I help you, sir?” she asked politely. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone in there singing, which is now illegal,” a distant gruff voice grunted back. Mom gasped in surprise. “You shouldn’t swear; it’s not polite.” The man didn’t find it funny. “Listen lady, I’m just trying to enforce a law; was someone singing in there?” “Not a soul. My daughter and I were talking, and I was changing the pitch of my voice a lot.” I smiled. Mom was good at this sort of thing. I imagined the man giving my mom an icy stare, trying to catch her in a lie; she technically wasn’t. “Alright, you’re off the hook this time. But don’t expect the next guy to be so lenient.” His heavy boots clunked down the stairs of the front porch. Mom came back, sighing lightly. “Nice one,” I whispered. “The days in the theater really helped.” “Clearly.”
We were in the clear. But when 1 law is made, another is sure to follow.
Which it did, much too soon.

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