"Isabelle, where is that citizen satisfaction report I asked you for?"
"I-I have it right here, Mayor Tortimer. Just g-give me a seco-"
"I've given you enough time! Hurry yourself up, please."
". . .yes, sir."
The small yellow shih tzu hurriedly "organized" the papers with a few solid tap tap taps to the desk. She handed them to her boss, Mayor Tortimer, to look over.
"I don't have time to read all this! Just, uh, gimmi the basics of it, please."
"Y-yes, sir. It says here that the citizens feel the town is underdeveloped. They would like it if you would, well, maybe consider a few more public works projects. Um, also, the amount of trash in the ri-"
"Yeah, yeah. Save the fish, blah blah, yada yada. Anything else?"
She swallowed the knot in her throat. She had hoped he wouldn't ask. She fumbled with the papers and broke the not-so-savory news.
"W-well. . .uh, well, you see- i-it's an entirely fixable problem, mind you! It's just-"
"Spit it out, Isabelle!"
"R-right! Sorry. Um, your approval rating is down by forty-five percent."
She ducked quickly to avoid the stapler that went flying towards the wall. It made a loud THUMP! and fell satisfyingly to the floor. Tortimer knew throwing office supplies wouldn't solve anything, but it sure felt darn good, and that would have to do for now.
"Isabelle, I'm going to need you to clock in a few extra hours. I need a campaign speech that will get the citizens on my side again."
She sighed. "A few extra hours" meant that she would be working all night. Again. The life of a secretary wasn't an easy one, but she imagined that others didn't have it as hard as she did. Tortimer was a very dedicated mayor, albeit a bit on the oblivious side when it came to the needs and feelings of others. She looked up to him for his dedication . . .when her eyes could actually stay open long enough to look, that is. She was more often than not tasked with the mayoral duties that Tortimer couldn't or wouldn't do. He was an old man. His vision was waning and his hands were plagued with arthritis. Isabelle did most of his writing for him. Despite these things, however, she knew full-well that he wasn't putting in all the effort he could be. For instance, he could at least dictate to her what he wanted her to write for his speech. He could pay her a little extra for her lost time. He could give a simple "thank you" every now and again! Not much. Just something to let her know that she was appreciated.
"I'll start working right now, sir."
"Good. See that you do."
The morning sun lazily awoke from its night-long slumber. The fiery ball of various gases had gotten much more sleep than the secretary dog now struggling to keep her eyes open. She forced her hand to keep writing the last few words of her boss's speech. She had poured her heart into it, hoping that she might get a little feedback this time. It was unlikely, but a dog could dream, couldn't she?
In closing, if you vote for me, I will work to clean the rivers and make the garbage less frequent. Remember, a vote for Tortimer is a vote for a better-
"Isabelle!"
Her head snapped up in shock.
"Mayor? What's wrong?"
"Forget about that speech. I won't be needing it."
She could practically hear her mood crashing faster than a diver without a parachute. She gritted her teeth and did her best to hide her disappointment and frustration.
"Oh? Why is that, mayor?"
He was in a frenzy, a wide, excited grin on his face. He was cleaning off his desk, throwing his various knick-knacks into a box.
"Last night, I had a most spectacular dream. It was of an island I visited years ago. Warm sand, saline air, and the bluest, freshest water you've ever seen! It's never cold there. It's never cloudy or muggy. Best of all, not citizens whining about "broken campaign promises" or "fake charity scams" and the like. This job is exhausting, Isabelle. That's why I've decided to retire."
"WHAT?!"
Any trace of grogginess suddenly escaped Isabelle's body all at once. You can't just up and leave!
"Oh, but I can." Oops. Guess the part of her brain that distinguished thought from speech hadn't quite woken up yet.
"Don't you worry your airy little head one bit. I've already called in my replacement. He should be arriving on the five o' clock train tomorrow morning."
"T-tomorrow? Wait! Who will run the town until then?"
"I see no reason that you can't do that."
"B-but I had plans! I. . .I wanted to maybe just. . .walk on the beach a little bit."
"Nonsense! Your responsibility is to your job, understand? This town needs you, Isabelle. At least for the time being. Just inform the citizens that I've retired and handle any riots that may happen."
"Riots?"
"Oh, you know. political vacuum or something like that. No big deal."
Just how valued do you think you are, mayor?
"Oh, very." Dadgummit!
With a last sweep of his desk, the now ex-mayor made his way to the door. he cast one last glance back.
"Oh, and Isabelle?"
"Yes, mayor?"
"Don't screw this up."
With that, he closed the door behind him and didn't look back a second time. Isabelle sank into her chair, letting the weight of the morning's circumstances finally come full-force onto her shoulders.
What now? She placed a paw to her forehead and another lazily onto her cluttered desk. What on Earth am I going to do now?