Park Maniac — The

From the shadow of the weeping willow stepped a small, unremarkable figure. Not a hulking brute in a mask. Just a thin man in a too-large trench coat, carrying a canvas bag. He had a kind face, almost apologetic.

Footsteps.

The man unzipped the bag. Waffles tumbled out, tail wagging, completely unharmed. He bounded to Arthur, licking his face, wriggling with joy. the park maniac

Arthur’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. From the shadow of the weeping willow stepped

The Park Maniac smiled sadly. “I’m not a monster, Mr. Crane. I’m a therapist. A very unconventional one.” completely unharmed. He bounded to Arthur