“It’s a classic case of mistaken identity,” the policeman said to the family. He gave a small pat to the little girl before readjusting his holster.

“This sort of thing has happened before?” The mom asked, peering at the commotion down the street.

“It used to happen just about once a month before Lenny sorted his entrapment business. Looks like his replacement couldn’t quite hack it.”

“Do you know when Lenny will be back?”

“Tough to say. Those eldritch conferences run on a strange time schedule. Last time, Lenny said he’d spent five months away, but I reckon it was a good five minutes. Anyway,” he drew his firearm, “I should probably go and help the poor sucker Lenny drafted in. Hopefully the silver rounds work this time,” he said with good cheer.

The family watched the officer settle himself into a shooting stance and empty his weapon at the tentacled horror bushwhacking the Stevens house. The father watched the proceedings with a quiet delight. He’d never gotten over the Stevens family cheating at the summer field games. Must be karma come back around for tying a false leg during the three-legged race.