Chapter 4 - One man's garbage is another man's gold
I decide that I should go back to my office, I haven't been there in a little over a week and I thik I left a tuna sandwich in my desk. As soon as I arrive I spot Reggie having a happy animated chat with Brent McAllister and a few of his assistants. I walk over to them pretending to ignore Brent and his a-holes "Reg, man, sorry about the other day, you won't believe what happened to me that day, you'll thank me for not getting you involved"
He is starring at me like he doesn't know what I am talking about, and Brent is sort of covering his mouth like he is holding back a laugh. "What's with the beard shortShaft" Brent says, they all laugh a little and Brent turns to high five an asian woman with a clipboard, or maybe it is a man.
"For your information, I'm going undercover, and that's all you need to know, McAllister"
"Well excuse me, Hey Larry, remember when Walter Jacobson did that report about the homeless, and he made it seem like he was living in the streets, that was great for a laugh" He turns to high five the asian man/woman again but he/she leaves him hanging, again.
Im getting frustrated, and I am pissed off, I totally forgot about that Jacobsen piece! I feel my face redded "Reggie, when your done here I gotta talk to you, Ill be in my office"
"yeah, OK man"
"Later, Walter" larry says as I walk away. I flash the middle finger over my shoulder, and his little entourage notices and the group lets out a long and enthusiastic 'ooohh'.
posted by MeAt @ 9:57 AM
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I make it to my office and the faint smell of fish lingers in the air, I am reminded of the Chode. “Fuck!”
I hold my breath and yank open the middle drawer of my desk. The tuna on rye rests on a report I was working on about teenagers prostituting themselves at shopping malls to buy the latest fashion trends.
“Shit!” I cover my nose with my shirt with one hand, and with the other I wrap the sandwich in the report, and hold it out downwind of me as I walk to the garbage can and dump the mess. Just then the door swings open “where the hell have you been Leignsheift?” It’s J.B. Taylor, the executive director of my division.
“Oh, hey J.B., well I’ve been doing some undercover research on a big story” I’m noticeably flustered.
“The one about teeneage hookers? Leingsheift, if I find out that you are doing more that just writing about those girls I’ll personally have you thrown in the shithouse…unless you get me in on a little of that action.” He laughs letting me know that he is just joking, but I sense that he may not be.
“Well Lengshieft, What’s the story about? And what the hell is that smell, smells like rotting cat food, you got one of those hookers in here?!” again with the look.
“No sir, that was a tuna sandwich” I point to the trashcan.
“Well, remind me of what deli you got it from and I’ll be sure not to go there, unless it’s at that shopping mall you’ve been spending so much time at.” He smiles and gives me the look and waits for me to laugh, I do and he continues ”Leingshieft, I like your work, I thought that the story you did on the negative effects of cell phones on out pets was amazing, and last month” He turns away and pauses, then turn back to me ”It was about bottled water, right?”
“That was a collaboration, wasn’t all mine” Wasn’t any of mine, McAllister did that piece, but I’m not going to let him know that.
“Well, it was brilliant! I haven’t bought a bottle of water since, goddamn rip off artists.” He turns to the only window looking outside in my small office and presses down on one of the vertical blinds, it makes sort of a pop or clink noise, and he spies out of it and says “ So Leingshieft, you've been out of the loop for about a week now, did you know that two days ago a story about teenagers selling sex in shopping malls has already been covered by good morning america?
The first thing I think is I'm finished, that story was going to justify my paychecks for this month. Then I think im going to be sick, or cry. I just stand there. 'No way' I think 'that story was ridiculous, I made that story up! How could, why would anyone cover it except for me?' I cant explain anything, I was the only one who knew anything about that story, I spot McAllister looking out of the corner of his eye, into my office 'that fucking Prick'
"So, what is it going to be this month Leingshieft?”
I'm pissed now "Sir, I won't let you down, I got a big story, maybe the biggest of my career"
He his attention re focuses back on me "well it better be, or else you may not have a career, you got two weeks" he opens the door to leave the office "And get rid of that stink" he makes a wave in front of his face and leaves.
I collapse into my chair, my mind is numb with, I fantasize briefly about going out onto the floor and telling McAllister what a prick he is, telling him that he is a fucking asshole and then beating the shit out of him in front of everyone, but the reality is that he would probably kick my ass.
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Throught the window of the door of my fish scented office I see the people of scurring around the office doing the regular routing. The floor is a constant buzz of phones ringing and people trying to talk over eachother. The room is big and series of desks in the center of the main room is like a courtyard of "the floor" and are manned by middle aged women taking phone calls about potential stories, some younger people constantly walking around the outskirts where the actual offices are. People seem to always be carrying and delivering paperwork and files. Files that I'm pretty sure that no-one ever reads, at least I have never read, but I have never recieved a file to read. Random people constantly seem to be appearing and disappearing, not looking out of place, but don't seems to have any other objective except to just pass through. Why or how they got on the tenth floor and felt like walking through is anyone's guess.
Midwest Journalism and Reporting
sells information and news stories to local and sometimes nationwide Media outlets.
The validity of the news articles that come out of the division that I work in is inconsequencial, as long as there is enough evidence that the story can be spun to appear plausable.
I watch people scatter as J.B. makes his way accross the floor. He stops and shakes hands with Brent who takes a step back and makes a motion as though he is swinging a golf club.
I watch their exchanges for a few seconds "Asshole" I murmer and the their attention is diverted to a commotion near the hallway leading to the elevator.
People clear the way for a shirtless man is tight cut off shorts making his way accross the floor. "What the, oh jesus Christ!"
Horrified by the realization of who is coming I stand up quickly, the back of my legs send my chair into the wall behind me. I see someone directing the man, pointing towards me. I duck quickly, think about hiding under my desk, but it is too late, The Chode spots me.
I see Mcallister laugh and shake his head as my door opens "I don't have much time I'm leaving town" The Chode chirps before I can say anything.
Horified, stunned I stammer "I, I, how? who set you here?"
"Harvey Sugar, but that's not important"
He walks over to my desk and lays down an envelope. "I've got some information that you can use to catch Jamaica's murderer"
The entire floor seems to have stopped working and is now starring into my office. I motion to a chair and say "Sit down" and "What is going on?"
The Chode remains standing, he looks preoccupied and nervous "No, I can't, I have to go. My uncle is waiting for my, I'm going out of town with him, if you need me I'll be in Key West"
The Chode turns to walk out of the office, but stops. He sniffs the air and walks over to my trash bin and pulls out the tuna sandwich and smashes it on his chest closes his eyes and rubs the stinking mass on himself.
"Oh, come on man!" I protest.
He looks at me with a sharp confused look, but says nothing, just turns, leaves my office, and makes his way through the bewildered crowd. No one attempts to stop or question him. As he walks by I see some people cover their noses to block the retched smell.
As soon as he is gone, normalcy returns and people go back to moving around the floor as though nothing happened. I stand behind my desk starring out onto the floor, fearing that J.B. might make his way back to my office to question me about my visit, but I see him walking in the other direction.
I reach out to the white letter envelope and, fearing what I might find inside, I carefully lift it off the desk.
One of the envelope there is a small lump, like a small stone. Inside I find that it is not a stone, but a warped copper colored cylindrical piece of metal. Along with this is a note that reads:
To who it may concern,
This bullet was taken from Jamaica, who's sacrifice will not be forgotten. Officer Spankowski is responsible for her death as well as the deaths of my cat friends Tahiti, Juliard, Rascal, Bon Bon, Mr. & Mrs. Whiskers, Clemintine, Sasha, Ashley, Feather, Winnie, and my robot/alien friend big Bird
Also, many more were injured as a result of Officer Spankowski's unnecessarily brutal attack; including: peaches, fluffer, scamper, socks, flower, buttons and butternuts.
Sincerely,
Doubled over clenching his guts, the Chode yells out "I'm going to sue your ass you whore!"
I turn for a moment and yell back "Go ahead and try it FREAK!"
Just then a red sports car pulls up and a middle aged man gets out and helps the chode into his passenger seat. He yells at me "stupid Jerk...asshohle" and speeds away.
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