The River

Thursday, September 30, 2004

Radically adept fiction

Rick Eddy on the Temple of Doom (Part Two)


I slid in to the back seat facin' forward next to Murdoch, and looked around at the surprised faces of a couple of his flunkies. Probably some FOX producers or equal low lifes. You had to understand the food chain in this environment. "Nice limo as usual, Murdoch." Then, 'cause I couldn't resist - I'd likely only get this one shot, and I figured I might as well use it right off 'cause this could turn ugly right quick, so I said, "Rupie, you ain't pissed at what I done to your boy, Hannity?"

The low lifes in the expensive suits looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here. They were savvy enough to know shrapnel kills, and if you can be seen, you can be hit. I thought they did a pretty nice job of meltin' into the car's plush upholstery.

Murdoch smiled, "R.E., no one who knows him likes that pompous mick, least of all me. But he does his job without too much whining, and the plebes like him. He's got good ratings. Besides, I thought it was pretty funny - a nice touch puttin' his dick in his hand, and pretty good photos, too." The Execs weren't sure how to react to that, so they stayed blank. I could see as how these were the kind of slime that floats to the top -= good corporate survival instincts. Still smilin', but his voice went cold, "I've told you - Don't call me Rupie." Then, the smile dimmed, but the voice warmed ever so slightly, "Give the other disk."

"Hey, Murdoch, I only had the one disk."

"R.E., give me the fuckin' disk. I won't have you damage my property by putting those photos out, so give them to me...NOW."

Well, I ain't the brightest guy on the planet, but seein' as how the limo had moved into the Garden's underground lot, and I was past security, I could see no point on playin' this game no further. Eventually he'd find out that I had already distributed other copies and send a few of his goon squad lookin' for me, but for now...I reached into the brief case and handed him the original disk with the photos on it.

"Thank you, R.E.", the smile back, and maybe even a trace of warmth. "So, are you back in the business?"

"No, Sir," I said, 'cause sometimes bein' polite with these ego-types goes a long way to how far you get to play the game. The difference between me and the slime was, I wasn't doin' it for a pay check, at least not anymore. "I'm here in the capacity of what you might call a reporter, Murdoch."

"For who? Who gave you a shot at reporting? And why, your talents are so much better used pursuing other endeavors," that last part meanin' collectin' pay-offs for him and his ilk.

"Well, Murdoch, I'm writin' for "Radically Inept"."

"And just what publication or network owns Radically Inept," he asked in a fairly surprised tone. That wouldn't last.

"Well, Murdoch, it's a small blog."

He laughed. The bastard laughed and I couldn't blame him, but I did anyway. Fuck him. But I smiled. Like I've said before, I may not be the brightest bulb, but I ain't burnt out yet.


Part one here

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