Mikey and I exchanged another look and he shrugged. We followed the woman inside and through a dark foyer before finally emerging into a sunlit living room. The woman was definitely squatting. Her “kitchen” was a fold-out table next to an unrolled sleeping bag and was comprised of: A crock pot, a plastic jug of water, and a hot plate with an old-timey coffee brewer on it that looked like one tea kettle welded atop another.
Though, the coffee that came out of those things was usually pretty decent and she even had sugar, so I couldn’t complain. I thanked the woman when she handed me the steaming metal camping mug, but then Mikey signaled not to drink it as she turned to approach the empty fold-out chair across from us.
Just as she was about to sit, the woman spotted something and said, “Oh, here you go. A visual aid…”
The woman retrieved what turned out to be a PTA pamphlet from the cluttered floor and carried it back over to Mikey, who then showed it to me. The words “BEWARE OF MR. TWISTED” were printed on its cover, above what was labeled as an eyewitness sketch of a man with a contorted shape and scarred features.
