Lefty's hypnosis

“You come here looking to start trouble, buster?!” Sheriff Hutton snarled.
The two deputies braced themselves for action. The sheriff started to rise
from his oversized chair. His rear was only about an inch out of the chair
when he stopped dead in his tracks. D was standing right in front of him. He
was just standing there, an unearthly aura radiating from every inch of his
body. That alone kept not only the sheriff but his two deputies as well from
moving a muscle.

“Answer me straight,” said D.
“You—you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” the sheriff blustered, but his
voice quivered nevertheless.

“In that case, you leave me no choice.”
Raising his left hand, D pressed it against the sheriff’s forehead. The
same vacuous expression seen on a mental defective spread across the
sheriff’s face. Eyes covered with a semitransparent film and drool coursing
from the corner of his mouth, the lawman stared vacantly into space.

“Why did the family leave town?”
A reply wasn’t soon in coming. No doubt a battle was raging in the
sheriff’s mind, a battle between his own ego and D’s words. The only
question was how it all would end.

“That family . . . was doing freaky experiments . . . Don’t know all the
particulars . . . ” The words were clearly being torn from the sheriff. And it
went without saying the power of D’s left hand was to blame.
“You knew that, and still you did nothing?” the Hunter asked.
“Wanted to . . . but then . . . mayor stopped me.”

“The mayor?” D’s eyes shone. “Why would he do that?”
“Don’t know . . . But I had official orders . . . Wasn’t supposed to do
anything . . . about that family . . . ever . . . Seems the sheriff before me . . .
had the same orders.”

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