Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Big Fight In Newsroom

Big Fight In Newsroom
18.03.09


BENTON, MO - Oh shit, you guys should’ve been here. BIGGGG fucking fight in the newsroom. Between a reporter and the copy editor. You could hear them way outside. Everything came to a standstill.

The editor ran two stories with two inaccurate leads, technically. The reporter stuck to her guns, the one who covered that satellite coming down and striking the cat, screaming at the editor, “HIS FUCKING NAME WAS SNIFFLES!”

The editor, who always has the final say, no matter what, ran the first story as, ‘Sniffle Memorial on Monday’ 9.03.09, with the obituaries, which irritated the hell out of the repor…can I say her name?...Marianne, who thought it should have run as local news.

Then, on 14.03.09 he ran a follow-up story as, ‘Hensley Home Closed Following Sniffle Hit’, which REALLY pissed her off, because she wasn’t completed settled from the first time, and she let everyone know.

“First you chop the hell out of my Sniffles hit story, ran it as an obituary, and now this misleading title, twice.”

“Did you just say Sniffle shit?” asked the editor.

She was spouting about journalistic integrity, and the editor, can I say his name?...the editor, crusty old cynical bastard that he is, said it didn’t sound right. “Read it both ways,” he said. “With the ‘S’, and without it. I’ve been doing headlines a long time, Sweetheart, and I’m telling you what works and what doesn’t.”

She erupted, “I’M NOT YOUR SWEETHEART. MY NAME IS MARIANNE, AND THE FUCKING CAT’S NAME WAS SNIFFLES!”

Glover responded with, “And I’m Sergeant Fucking Preston, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Fucking Police. Take a hike, Sniffles.”

Awwww shit, why’d he say that? I mean, he could have said practically anything else, but they’d been working together long enough for him to know just how to get under her skin. She didn’t even know who Sergeant Preston was.

Well, one thing led to another, and before you knew, the authorities were called in. Yeah. No shit. They had to break it up. Someone downstairs dialed up 911 and said a murder was about to take place. Six cops showed up. They had the call on tape. All the calls are on tape.

No. Nothing changed. Vic sent her back out to talk to Mrs. Hensley…she’s in a nursing home now…and down to the animal shelter to investigate the killing of those 117 cats. Lethal injection. They used to just bash their heads in, saying it saved time, until people got wind of it. Animal rights people are in a hysteria about not trying to find them homes. Off’d ‘em right after they caught ‘em.

They cremate. Then the remains go to the community garden. People over there said they’d take all the ashes for their tomato plants.




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