Dabney saw the river and tightened his grip on the bottle. Water burbled in the morning sun and tall pines swayed in the breeze. In the bottle gasoline sloshed as he walked and he could smell acrid fumes escaping it's rag stuffed top. "Today those beavers will pay." he mumbled.

ok this isn’t really a story but JUST MAKE THE PHONE EVIL

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.