First of all, a recap- I had a Journalism internship at a local TV station back in January. The fact that it is now April tells me I should get a bloody move on and finish the goddam story or I run the risk of not being “relevant”. Apparently that’s all the rage now. I don’t see the point. I mean, you don’t see the pyramids being all “relevant”. They just sit there, being all hidden-mysteriousy and throwing curses at explorers, and yet they get their own Natural Geographic specials. I swear to god. Also, I realise I’m getting off topic and will come back. Here now is Part Two of the Chronicles. You may think it’s kind of lame now, but trust me…in twenty years a bunch of pop culture nerds will say it’s actually the best installment of the saga, and everyone will jump on the bandwagon. So you heard it here first, baby!

* * * *
So my first day had basically wound down, and I was getting ready to go home, when the Chief of Staff Theo Tallywhacker came over.

“Stuart, you did good work today. When I first met you, I thought you were a brash young rookie, too hot headed for your own good. I thought you were going to get someone killed. But all the time we’ve spent together, I’ve come to understand that your way gets results. Hell, I respect you kid.”

“Um, sir, thank you, but you only met me this morning.”

“It seemed like an eternity. Anyway, how would you like to come into the studio and see the show go to air? I bet that’ll be a treat! Couldn’t you just SHIT??!!”

I was slightly taken aback by the sudden ferocity of his enthusiasm, but I realised he was only trying to help me fit in.

“Actually, sir, I’ve already presented a couple of times for the uni news show on the community station, so I do know my way around a…”

“That’s a great story, kid, listen have Betty take you down, I am out of here and into a dry martini.”

And so Betty, who was Assisstant Producing that day, took me down and introduced me to the production crew. They were all really, really nice. What a great crew I thought. I bet we’ll become fast friends, the rookie slowly becoming accepted by the working salts on the floor. I never saw a single one of them again.

I did, and Doyle will hate me for this, meet Wally Lewis, former Origin Great who now does the sport report. He was really nice too, although he spent the rest of the week avoiding my eye whenever we passed in the hall. Don’t worry, Wally. I know.

I know.

Anyways, that was it for day one. I hadn’t settled in, but I was comfortable with my working environment. I had been on a story, written some stuff, interview people…it was like being a real journalist! Little did I know what was in store…

(Note, for those with weak hearts- I’m being needlessly dramatic. Don’t worry, no one dies from here on in, and only a few are horribly disfigured.)

So I showed up for my second day at work eager and ready for more of the same. After a battle of wills with the security guard, he conceded I might be there on legitimate businesss, despite looking “awful like a foreign queer to me” and I walked into work.

“Hey Boss,” I said to Theo as I approached. “”What hot lead have you got for me today?”

He looked up, startled. Confusion spread over his features for a moment, then a sneer. “Oh, it’s you. Take a seat. We haven’t got anything yet today. But stick around. I might want a back rub.”

Taken aback, I set up at a desk. Unfortunately, the station didn’t trust me with internet access because I might look up how to make a bomb from regular household chemicals and bring the establishment down. So I was stuck with reading the newswires. Newswires are a service journalism outlets pay for which gives them a feed of breaking news. It’s very useful to hourly radio, but a little redundant for a nightly TV bulletin. Still, a newsroom is cut off without them, so the station had them. And they are boring. Not only do they repeat all the time, but the stories are the bare facts, without any spin or polish put on. I know we always crow about how journalists “sensationalise” news, but honestly, if all you had was these things telling you what was going on, you’d never watch the news again.

I was jolted from my sudden reverie by a slap to the back of the head.

“Hey, new guy, get your arse down to the car pool,” said Theo, trying to hide his distaste. “You’re tagging along with Tameika today.”

“Really? What are we coveri..”

“SHUT UP!! WHAT DO YOU THINK I PAY YOU FOR??”

“Um, you don’t. I’m here on an internship.”

He looked at me with disappointment in his eyes. “You…you just don’t get it, do you?”

“uh…”

“No, don’t say anything. Just get out of my sight.”

So off I went to the car pool!

The news department has a fleet of cars, ready to take their journalists on the spot to a breaking story. And did I have a doozy coming up.

As I walked towards the car, an attractive brunette girl came up to me.

“Hi,” I said, handing her my jacket and bag. “take these, and be careful with that jacket, it’s a wool/polyester blend. I’m waiting for some guy called Tameika, have you seen him? He may look foreign, weird name like that…”

“I’m Tameika,” she said, dropping my things and slapping me in the face. “Nice to meet you.”

Despite a shaky start, we got on like a house on fire. In that a lot of people were killed and there was an insurance bill of millions.

“So what do you do?” she asked as we drove along. The cameraman was driving, sitting stoically and eating a bagel.

“Well, I…”

“That’s nice. Listen, did Theo tell you what we’re doing today?”

“Um, no.”

“Oh, great. Just foist the rookie off on me, Theo, I don’t mind having a dipshit tag along with me all day.”

“Ah, I’m sitting right here.”

“Shut up. Alright, apparently some store got robbed. Ram raid. We’ll get some vision, do an interview with the manager and get the hell out. I have an appointment this afternoon with my…manicurist. Yeah. That’ll do. And I don’t want to be late.”

“Sure. That sounds like a …”

“JUST DON’T GET IN MY WAY, NEWBIE!! YOU GOT ME??”

I nodded a tentative yes. This seemed to calm her down and we spent the rest of the journey in silence, the only sound the low drone of the radio and the occasional fart from the cameraman.

It was immediately apparent which was the shop in question. It was a chemists. I couldn’t catch the name, because it had been stencilled on the glass doors, which were now strewn over the carpark, the frame bent and hanging, signs of carnage everywhere. Finally, I thought, as Tameika interviewed the manager and we got shots of the building. Some real news.

Just then, the phone rang. It was Theo. Tameika turned and walked a little way away. I couldn’t make out the conversation clearly but I picked up the words “fuckwit”, “do you know who I am”, “this wasn’t part of our arrangement” and something about Theo’s wife, but the upshot was Tameika came back with a black look.

“I’ve been pulled from the story. We’re going to the goddam dance championships on the coast. FUCK.”

She threw the phone at me, hitting me in the eye, and got in the car. I made a feeble attempt to staunch the bleeding and followed her. Such is the fast-paced world of journalism. Theo had gotten wind that a number of female dancers would be together in a room jumping around, and since Tameika was from the Gold Coast bureau it seemed like a no-brainer to put her on home turf to get the story. The ram raid was given to the resident crime reporter, and we set off.

The 45 minute trip to the coast was made slightly awkward by Tameika muttering “fucker” exasperatedly under her breath any time I said anything, but I think we reached an understanding of each other on that trip. So it was we arrived at Jupiters casino for the annual youth dancing competition.

Can I just say at this point that I am not an excessively creepy man. I just want to make that clear. It’s just that when I walked in to the room, FULL of girls aged around 14 to 21, all doing an exercise which required them to run, then JUMP, run, then JUMP….well, I think that’s what heaven will be like. But I’ll be too busy burning to notice.

I actually stopped dead in my tracks as we entered the room. So did the cameraman. Tameika gave an exasperated sigh and strode forward to greet one of the organisers , who was a nice man, very friendly, and extraordinarily homosexual. I had expected this, however, and had taken the precaution of hanging a small sign around my neck saying “straight”. You know, just so we were clear. You couldn’t be too careful, I reasoned, this meaing a dance comp. Most of the guys here, gay and surrounded by women, they’re likely to jump on any bit of man-tail they can find. He saw the sign and frowned, then shook his head, sadly. Don’t worry, mister, I thought. You’ll find someone someday as attractive as me that likes the tube meat.
Mind you, I had my doubts about some of them. It would have been a great scam. There was maybe twenty guys and HUNDEREDS of girls. Assume that most of those guys are gay and the numbers shoot way through the roof for anyone who, by some freakish coincidence, is a male dancer and NOT hungry for cock. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel. You know, wet and smelling of fish.

We interviewed a couple of the dancers and teachers. Tameika let me interview a couple when she announced “whatever. I’m getting high” and headed for the ladies. The cameraman shook his head wearily and said “you’re up, kid”.

I was thinking about doing my own standup, but Tameika breezed out of the toilets, seeming a lot calmer and more hyperactive at the same time. She didn’t say a word to either of us, but walked straight out the doors, knocking over two small children as she went.

“That’s our cue, mate,” said the cameraman, wearily.

“How long have you been doing this job?” I asked.

“Too long. And don’t patronise me, cunt. You’re on my list.”

It was fair enough, I thought. We made our way back in silence, broken only by Tameika giggling softly, and the omnipresent farts. I doodled a penis on the window of the car using skin oil.

When we arrived back at the station there was a note waiting on the desk.

Gary, make sure you get that haddock for the O’Brien piece. And stay away from my wife!

-Tallywhacker

I chose to assume this was code for “good job today, take a well earned rest” so I did, and went home. I felt I was finally settling in to my new role…

…and the journey continues…