2 Grand Delusion Read Online Free PDF Page A

remembered to get dressed up? I was wearing blue jeans and a faded old Pogo T-shirt.
    I felt outgunned, outmanned, and alone. Andrea had taken our kids for a walk around the block because they were making too much noise, so the only person I had with me for moral support was little snot-nosed Tony. I looked over at Judy, but she didn't look back; she was too busy being an impartial journalist.
    "Gentlemen," Wells began in a pleasant, confidential tone, "and gentlewoman," he added, nodding pleasantly to the one woman on the board, "this is a very straightforward petition. Mr. Doyle, or as we all know him, Pop"—here Wells smiled, Pop smiled, and the board all smiled back—"wishes to officially rezone his property on 107 Elm Street as a three-family unit. Un officially, the property has been three-family for over ten years, with no problems or complaints from the neighbors—"
    What?! Screw you, you lousy East Side slimeball—
    "—and now we're merely requesting that you formalize the arrangement. As you can see from this map"—here Wells passed around Xeroxes to the board members—"most of the other houses in this area are also two-family or three-family units—"
    Wait, that's a total lie!
    "—so Pop's dwelling fits perfectly into the neighborhood—"
    "Excuse me," I interrupted, standing up. All seven board members turned and frowned at me. I belatedly remembered the grape juice I'd spilled on my shirt at dinner; hopefully it hadn't left too big of a stain. "May I see that map?" I blundered on, with what I hoped looked approximately like an ingratiating smile.
    The board members frowned even harder, and out of a corner of my eye I saw Pop stiffen. But then Wells said, "Of course," and with the utmost graciousness handed me a copy of the map.
    I had an inspiration. "Perhaps the editor of the Daily Saratogian would like a copy, too," I suggested.
    If any of the board members hadn't known before that there was a media watchdog present, they knew it now. As Wells handed Judy the map, they all sat up straighter in their chairs. I snuck a look at Pop; he was glaring straight at me, and his face flamed bright red with anger right before my eyes.
    Clearing his throat, Wells went back to the railing and resumed his confident baritone monologue. But I didn't hear what he was saying. I was busy staring at the map.
    The map was baloney. It may have been true, but it was still utter baloney. There's lies, damn lies, and statistics . . . and then there's damn lying maps.
    Wells's map showed a small slice of Elm Street from the cemetery northward to 107, where it stopped abruptly. And sure enough, slightly over half the houses in this carefully selected slice were indeed two-or three-families.
    But.
    By stopping where it did, the map obscured the fact that 107 was the only two- or three-family on our entire block. Because if you charted Elm Street southward to 107 instead of northward, absolutely none of the houses were multi-families.
    Furthermore, though the map didn't show this, every single three-family on Elm was much, much larger than the house at 107. No other landlords had been nearly so greedy, subdividing their places into such Lilliputian apartments.
    Tony nudged my shoulder sharply, and I looked up. I suddenly realized that Wells had finished his speech and the chairman was already asking for audience comments. I'd been so wrapped up in the map, I hadn't raised my hand.
    "Since no one has any comments," the chairman was saying, looking pretty happy about it, "we will now proceed to—"
    "Wait!" I yelled. Oops, I hadn't meant to yell. "I do have comments, Mr. Chairman," I continued, more quietly.
    The chairman sighed. "All right. Please be brief."
    I stood at my pew and started to speak from right there, but then went up to the railing instead and stepped around it. If Wells thought that was the best place to stand, then by God, that's where I'd stand, too.
    Behind me little Tony began whistling and clapping loudly. Great,