Croaked
“A jowly man in an expensive suit glowered down at me.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Are you the editor?”
The nameplate on my desk clearly established this. “Yes, I’m Ry Tully,” I said as I stood. He didn’t offer his hand, and neither did I.
“I’m Titus Barstow, the director of the Redneck Riviera,” he snapped. “What do you think you’re trying to do?”
I stared blankly. I was good at that.
“Your story on the Descent ride,” he went on. “Flying demons, screaming skeletons. What... kind of theme park do you think I run?”
Now I blinked. “The Descent?”
“We have nothing sacrilegious at the Redneck Riviera,” Barstow said. “I’m a Christian, a father, and a Baptist lay minister, and I would never condone that sort of thing. We run a family theme park, and we’re proud of that.”MoreLess
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Are you the editor?”
The nameplate on my desk clearly established this. “Yes, I’m Ry Tully,” I said as I stood. He didn’t offer his hand, and neither did I.
“I’m Titus Barstow, the director of the Redneck Riviera,” he snapped. “What do you think you’re trying to do?”
I stared blankly. I was good at that.
“Your story on the Descent ride,” he went on. “Flying demons, screaming skeletons. What... kind of theme park do you think I run?”
Now I blinked. “The Descent?”
“We have nothing sacrilegious at the Redneck Riviera,” Barstow said. “I’m a Christian, a father, and a Baptist lay minister, and I would never condone that sort of thing. We run a family theme park, and we’re proud of that.”MoreLess
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