Home > Creative Writing Exercises, Social Networking, Writing > Three Words Musing No. 1: Bacon, Shortage, Blockade – Part II

Three Words Musing No. 1: Bacon, Shortage, Blockade – Part II

The second installment of a work in progress. All rights reserved!

June 2012

“We need to talk, Lloyd.”

Two hours before deadline in the Kissimmee bureau of the Orlando Press. Lloyd had sunk into his swivel chair in a cubicle in the middle of the boiler room that he shared with six other reporters. For the moment, he stared at the flatscreen monitor. He had just filed an article about a zoning change for a halfway house in a small subdivision off Highway 192. Now he needed to wrap up a quick collection of news briefs about a fatal motorcycle accident, traffic construction work on Interstate 4, and the curious death of twenty-three cows on a farm near the Silver Spurs Rodeo arena. That wouldn’t take more than a half hour, but Lloyd really just wanted to get it done and go home.

“Almost finished here,” he told his boss, a squat and officious little groundhog of a man named Patrick Betts.

The bureau chief crossed his arms. “Now, Lloyd. Please.”

The reporter bristled at the tone of voice. “Jesus, Pat, what’s the fucking rush? The monster never sleeps. The monster’s always hungry.”

“We need to talk,” Patrick repeated.

“And I’m sure it’ll be fabulous when we do. Right now, though, I’ve got to polish off those briefs so I can call it a night.”

“Let Amy handle them.”

Lloyd swiveled his chair around so he could stare at Patrick, brow knitting. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“My office, Lloyd.”

“Pat, I know how this scene ends: Pesci’s shot in the head.” Lloyd stood in his cubicle so that he could loom a bit over his boss. “I’m not going to your office. If I was in trouble, I’d know it. If I was up for a promotion, you wouldn’t interrupt me on deadline to tell me and you sure as hell wouldn’t shovel my work onto someone else. So that doesn’t leave a whole lot of possibilities.”

Patrick frowned. “I wanted to talk about this privately.” Other reporters popped their heads up like prairie dogs sensing danger near their holes.

“How hard did you fight to keep me?”

“It wasn’t an easy decision.”

“The monster’s always hungry,” Lloyd said. “Sometimes it eats its own, right?”

Patrick fidgeted, tangling his fingers together. “I hope we can still be friends.”

“We were never friends.”

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  1. Lord Rarrington of Rarsbury
    October 3, 2010 at 3:02 am

    Keep up the pressure on those words, Mr. Moose – they won’t write themselves (or will they…?).

    Also, you totally cheated with “BACON” on the last one. You must atone. >:|

  2. October 3, 2010 at 10:18 am

    I’m curious: In what sense did I cheat with “BACON?” 🙂

  3. Lord Rarrington of Rarsbury
    October 3, 2010 at 3:38 pm

    It was so cheaply forced. He may as well have had breakfast Tourette’s or something. You can do better than that. 🙂

    —-

    But just for giggles:

    “We need to talk, Lloyd.”

    “Bacon,” he told his boss, a squat and officious little groundhog of a man named Patrick Betts.

    The bureau chief crossed his arms. “Now, Lloyd. Please.”

    The reporter bristled at the tone of voice. “BACON.”

    “We need to talk,” Patrick repeated.

    “Bacon?”

    “Let Amy handle them.”

    Lloyd swiveled his chair around so he could stare at Patrick, brow knitting. “…bacon…”

    “My office, Lloyd.”

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