The bad wolf

The Bad Wolf

One winter morning, the phone in our room rang.
My husband answered. I could hear the caller asking:
“Is your social security number xxxxx?”
“Yes,” my husband said. “How do you know that?”
“I’m a police officer. I called to inform you that a person
stole your social security number for a fraudulent use.
Please tell me, how many bank accounts do you have?”
“Three,” my husband told him.
“Can you give me the bank names?” the caller continued.
My husband did.
“How much money do you have in each account?”
My husband told him again.
“Don’t give him all that information!” I yelled.
“It’s okay. He’s a police officer.”
“Oh, yeah? How can you be so sure?”
My husband then said to the caller, “Tell me your name
and rank. I need to report this to the local police.”
The caller then hung up.
We were certain then that the caller is a bad wolf.
Alarmed that the animal knows his social security
number, my husband immediately reported it to the
Police, while I told the bank teller about the incident
and found out that the bad wolf had not yet accessed
to our accounts. We blew out a sigh of relief. My husban
also checked his credit card, which was fine too. We
laughed. We were in a celebrating mood. What a day!
I was also grateful for my luck to not fall on the icy
sidewalk to the bank and break my hipbone. The caller
scared thorn birds out of us. But we beat the bad wolf.