Bubbles Ablaze
““Rewrite,” she droned. I pictured Cora at her News-Times desk—one hand in the bag of microwave popcorn, one hand on the keyboard and both eyes on the muted TV. One spongy brain on permanent vacation.“Hi, it’s me, Bubbles,” I said with enough energy to be contagious. “I’ve got two stories for you. A six inch and a twenty-five.”“Ugh. You correspondents. So verbose,” Cora said. “Give me the twenty-fiver first. Slug?”The slug was what appeared in the night editor’s computerized directory to identif...y a story. Had Mr. Salvo given me permission to write what I wanted, it would have been slugged something like McMullen.doc or coal.doc. Instead I slugged it—“PMS.” That should slip the attention of the average male editor.“Huh?” Cora’s fingers were tapping away on the other end. “You writing for the women’s pages now?”“Hmmm. Not quite. Ready?”“Guess so.”I slowly and carefully read my story about how Stinky had been fired after persistently urging McMullen Coal to draw its maps correctly and how Hugh McMullen had then publicly painted him as a lunatic the day after a state inspector visited the Number Nine mine at Stinky’s urging.MoreLess
Read book Bubbles Ablaze for free
Write Review:
User Reviews: