A short story. Or part of one.

[knighthawk]

Well, It's currently 4:00AM, I cannot sleep. so I threw this together in baout an hour? Half an hour? It's not my best, but it being 3:00Am when I started, I really dont care. I might correct it or smothing in the wmorning, maybe finish the story, but here is the first part of an epic Saga I like to call:
Jack Helbert; Duece Reporter.
(Note: Yes, it is Neopets based. I had it in my mind to submit it to the Neopian times, but I sort of strayed it off to make it more human. Eh.)

"This is Deuce reporter, oh, excuse me. My cameraman is, wait, what do you mean I can’t say deuce? It’s another word for a playing card isn’t it? Well, people say ‘Ace’ all the time, so I thought it would be cliché if I used it….Well, that’s a stupid reason to… You can’t use a unionisation clause in this situation! I swear, if you interrupt one more time, I’ll fire you so quickly they’ll make a new definition to the word with your picture next to it! Oh yeah? Come over here and say that too my face you little… Wait, are you recording this? As in, everything I say? Well stop it! I told you to do it! I’ll give you a good reason….”
Have you ever been in a really uncomfortable situation? For example, I heard about this one guy who was caught red handed making cloud angels in the Faerie Queen’s private garden. Man, his face must have been red! Then again, that might have been that punishment spell. It made for a heck of a story though. Anyway, I was in one of those situations right now. I was supposed to be reporting on the annual ‘Pie, Blueberry and Jalapeño eating contest (PB&J for short), but by some freak accident, my cameraman’s head was currently stuck halfway into a perfectly good cherry pie, while the camera was being rapidly smashed over and over into a bucket of blueberries. I was nowhere near this situation at the time, no matter what a few hundred witnesses and the fingerprints say. I was on extended vacation in the Lost Desert, and have the receipts from certain purchases to prove it.
To my dismay, the contest was never reported on. This seems to be the case with quite a lot of my assignments. The cameras tend to break, or the microphones don’t work, or the cameramen end up in the hospital with minor injuries. It’s rather unfortunate. I really am the best Kougra in the world at journalism, well; then again I’m the only Kougra in the world at journalism, but who cares for such petty details?
After the mishap at the Pie eating contest, I went back to the studio, hoping to get my next assignment from my secretary without running into my boss. I don’t know who chooses Skeiths to be management material, but in my humble opinion, they should be dunked into a pit of some ravenous undead.
As I slinked past the front desk, I heard a beautiful melodious voice come from the direction of the door.
“You know, it’s much easier to sneak past people when you’re not covered in blueberry and pie morsels there Jack. Have a hard time at the pie eating contest? I thought that slime balls and dung brains like you weren’t on the menu.”
Enter Cassandra, a wonderfully beautiful female of my species who currently works as an editor for The Neopian Times. With her luxuriously blond fur, and those cute blue eyes, who couldn’t like her? She’s secretly smitten for me and me alone, and hides it so very well. She can pretend to hate me all she likes, but we both know the truth about her feelings.
“Ah! Cassandra, I didn’t see you there. How’s my cute blonde beauty doing today? Not overworked I hope?”
“Cut the routine there Jack, before I file another harassment suite against you. The only reason I’m talking to you, is because that ugly snobby jerk stupid faced boss of ours over there” She said, jerking a thumb at the skeith in question, “Is charging me with the reproduction of all your work into The Times.” She spat that last part with a bit of a shudder. I can’t blame her. I mean, who wouldn’t shudder in joy at the thought of being near me all day, seven times a week?
“So, you’re my new assistant? If that’s the case, I don’t suppose you could fetch me a towel and a coffee? Be quick about it also if you don’t mind, this pie filling is starting to dry fairly quickly.” I stated innocently, turning and walking away from her. I could see her face turning red, and her body quaking. With eloquence and happiness I suppose, for having the opportunity of doing such menial tasks for a high ranking journalist such as myself.
“Oh, and one more thing…” I said turning to look at her. I never finished my statement. In the next few seconds, I found myself on the ground, with a throbbing head, and a certain female colleague of mine looking down on me with a clenched fist, and then speaking though clenched teeth.
“Just remember this Jackie-Boy” Cassandra said as she kneeled down next to me, rubbing her fist. “I am not your slave, I will not get you coffee, and I am asking for a transfer the first chance I get. If you every ask me to get you a towel again, you will find yourself in this same position, but next time, you’ll be lacking a few teeth. Understand me?” She then stalked off toward the break room muttering about stupid people and how I’m a moron and coffee and such.
Remember earlier when I told you about uncomfortable situations? Well, I’m in one right now. On one hand, I have the love of my life assisting me with my work and me asking small tasks from said love of my life. On the other hand, I have the prospect of never seeing most of my teeth again. As I sat up rubbing my head, at least I can draw one conclusion from all of this. Love hurts. I sighed, and then picked myself up. I made my way between the desks of hard working people, who we’re not in the least bit surprised to find me covered in pie and blueberry. This tends to happen to me a lot, for reasons that confuse and defy the laws of man and science. Thus somewhere along the line I found a towel, which I then used to clean up, and then wrapped around my head turban style. For a really beautiful girl, Cassandra really packs a punch.
Eventually, after much water cooler banter and a few cups of really strong coffee, I made my way to my office. I nodded at my secretary; a bright young Uni named Melinda, who we call Mel, and then smiled both weakly, and meekly at Cassandra, who was sorting files in a huff, and opened the newly repaired door that leads to my desk. (That’s quite a funny story, how the door was broken I mean. It was involving two quarts of paint, the Pant Devil, and an angry hornet. I’ll tell it to you sometime.) I then sat down and propped my legs up on my desk disrupting what I assume were important files. As I rubbed my head and reflected on the days events, I paged the secretary and asked for my messages.
“Let’s see what we’ve got for you today Jack. You have one from the Pie contest; you owe over 30,000 NP in damages. You might want to answer that one soon.”
“Ok. What’s the next one?” I groaned inwardly at that one. Another 30,000NP owed to someone, and I doubt my insurance covers pie related incidents. It wasn’t even my fault either! I mean, that cameraman had it coming, and there was just so much pie on hand…
“Let’s see, three more concerning bills, one from a guy named Billy ‘Two Tone’ Barker, something about protection money on your house. He sounded serious. Care to clue me in on that one?”
“No, I would not. Next.”
“As you wish, but really, you should pay that guy off. I mean, with a name like Two Tone, he must have it rough.”
“Thank you for the opinion Melinda, next message please.” Two Tone was really a crazy old Blumaroo who used to have ties in with Sloth before a deal went sour. I won’t divulge on details, but he does have some useful information from time to time.
“Last one. It seems that a man called Mr. X wishes to meet with you at Pier 14 at 5:00, to reveal the shocking truth behind a resent toothpaste conspiracy. Can you say nutcase or what?”
“Ugh. Remind me to change my number Mel.” I was always getting crackpots ringing about crazy theories. Apparently I was the only one daring to report about them or something. The things I do for a pay check.
“Oh, and by the way, the boss wants you in a meeting. I just thought you might want to know.”
“Oh really? And why didn’t you tell me about this before? Also, when is said meeting.”
“I didn’t tell you, because you didn’t ask. As for the meeting, it started about 5 minutes ago. But the boss is late so far, so you might make it, if you run.”
I groaned, because I knew this is exactly the type of thing that Mel would pull. I shot out of the office faster than you could say that last sentence, and careened into a cubical wall going about the speed of light, Or close to it. After about ten seconds of quite dignity on the ground, I blacked out.

[Xandra]

Moved to the Gallery- that's the board for posting your writing/art. The Workshop's for advice and such.

[Marissa]

This story totals to 1,560 words, and that's after I didn't count your introductory post and author's notes.

7. Please don't post overly large works. If a piece of art is large (Over 450 pixels wide or 700 pixels tall or over 700kb in size), please make a thumbnail or text link to the larger version. If a piece of writing is long (Over 1000 words), please post an offsite link.