Stop the presses

Dawn wasn't a fast writer, but after a few hours of hard work, she had finally written an article that she felt was good enough to hand in. And it was still well before deadline. She sent the article in an email to Michael Bradshaw at the paper.

It wasn't long before her phone rang. It was Bradshaw, and he sounded excited.

”Damn it, Parker, this is great stuff! Your writing is flimsy and we'll have to cut most of that pedestrian crap about the waterpark out. But don't worry, the quote about the federal grant is a solid piece of journalism. How the hell did you get old Thompson to talk?”

Dawn was gleaming with pride. ”I don't know, sir, I guess he was just in a chatty mood,” she said modestly. She failed to mention that she had practically exposed herself to get his attention.

”So all we have to do in return is to write a fluff piece on him? That is terrific! We had been meaning to get a longer interview with the that braggart anyway. And if it turns out crap, we'll just bury the text in the lifestyle section. Come in to the office tomorrow and we'll have a talk about your future at the Gazette.”

On the next day, Dawn went out to the driveway to get the paper first thing in the morning. She knew that the story had been published online the day before, but that wasn't just the same as seeing her article in print.

Dawn's picture of mayor Thompson at the waterpark filled the front page, and over it was a big headline:

”MAYOR MAKES A SPLASH – Thompson promises federal millions for stadium and bridges.”

Dawn smiled as she brought the paper inside. She was going to frame it when she got home from work that evening.