Currant Events

    So I recently told you about how I was now a reporter for a local publication. What I did not tell you, although you may not be surprised to discover, is that I actually have to do some reporting! So, I want to share with you, for the first time anywhere, besides The Local Freebie, my very first published article!

One Man Threatens To Kill Another

                                                            Jamie Luxton III
                                                             Staff Reporter

    A local orchardist fears for his life after a fellow grower threatened his life Monday night. Lungri Khan, former president of the Grower’s Association, is charged with uttering threats and possession of a weapon for dangerous purpose. He was released on bail Tuesday evening.

    According to Bhurpi Kirpan, he received a phone call Monday afternoon from an unidentified man who demanded to know why Kirpan’s orchards went relatively undamaged by last weeks torrential hailstorm.

    “I said: It is divine intervention. There is no other explanation.” says Kirpan.

    Kirpan says the voice began to swear uncontrollably, and said “I must send you to thank God in person.”

    A short time later, Khan arrived in his pickup truck at the Kirpan residence. The following moments were captured by Kirpan’s home surveillance cameras. Bhurpi provided copies of the video to The Local Freebie and police.

    The video shows an obviously distraught Khan exiting his vehicle and waving a shovel about in a menacing fashion, before approaching the house. Although Bhurpi was not home at the time, his son, Pharti, was, and he met the irate Khan in the driveway.

    Pharti says that Khan never threatened him, but did announce his intention to kill Pharti’s father.

    Pharti called police while neighbours, attracted by the commotion, gathered to watch.

    An RCMP officer is seen to arrive swiftly and restrain Khan without incident.

    RCMP media spokesperson  Insp. Masia Parono explained the rest at a press conference earlier today.

    “Constable Yannick Segue was the first to arrive on the scene. A lot of people had gathered, but it was pretty obvious who the bad apple was.” says the inspector.

    “Constable Segue ensured a smooth transition out of a dangerous situation, by ordering the man, later identified as Lungri Khan, to put down the shovel. The man complied and allowed himself to be handcuffed and secured to constable Segue’s Segway without incident. Constable Segue then called for assistance, as the Segway is not equipped to transport two people.”


    Lungri Khan is scheduled to appear in court Thursday morning.

    Inspecto. Parono offered this assessment of the case.

    “It appears to be a case of sour grapes. Lungri Khan’s orchard was heavily damaged in the hailstorm, and Kirpan’s was not. It made Khan go bananas. Even for fruit growers, life isn’t always a bowl of cherries. But, as a police officer, I recommend that, when life hands you lemons, instead of trying to kill someone, make lemonade.”

    Lungri Khan is scheduled to appear in court Thursday morning.



    Not bad, I’d say. It’s both concise and informative. I guess I’m not the only one who thinks so, either, because it made the front page of today’s edition of The Local Freebie!

    If you, dear reader, are as local as The Freebie is, then pick yourself up a copy or two today! On the other hand, if you are that person from France, or that person from South Korea, or are otherwise outside local distribution, then have I got good news for you!

    I just happen to have ten copies of today’s The Local Freebie in my personal possession. Here’s what I am prepared to do. To the readers who send me the ten sexiest pictures of themselves, I will autograph and send you one of these papers. Of course, you are welcome to enter as many times as you like. But once you have won one copy, you will not be eligible to win more copies, no matter how many pictures you send. Winners will be determined by me, in the privacy of my own home.

    When I was just out of high school, I imagined myself becoming a TV journalist. I even took a written test from a post-secondary school. Then they conducted an over the phone interview. They asked me questions like:

    “If you could ask the Prime Minister one question, what would it be?”

    “I don’t know. About the economy, I guess.” I replied.

    I’m not sure if I ever got a letter of disinterest from them or not, but I do know I was never admitted.

    I was never really upset about it, though. I never wanted to be a journalist so much as a low level celebrity. Only almost twenty years later, here I am, and now I am both.  Isn’t it amazing what fate has in store for us?

And Now the News, Don't Touch That Dial

    Even public transit has it’s secrets. This is the sort of thing you’re going to find out if, like me, you’re an investigative reporter. If you find yourself sitting there right now, wondering how I can suddenly have become an investigative reporter, then you probably are not much of an investigative reporter.

    Briefly, it went like this. I was involved in a… Thing. Look, it’s hard to know what to say. It’s kind of a matter that is currently before the courts. Let just say I was involved in a venture, which, unknown to me, would prove to be “not exactly legal” in nature.

    One day, I was approached in a bar by a woman who drunkenly spoke at length on the merits of owning a dog. Her name was Smitty. Naturally, I thought a beautiful relationship was forming. What was really happening was an undercover police officer was turning me into her informant.

    I’ll tell you, I was happy to inform. I wanted to make Smitty happy. I thought that there was a real chance of making things work between us, even after I realised she was a cop. Even if it had to wait until our “professional” relationship was over.

    Besides, this place I was working at? It wasn’t an environment that fostered a lot of loyalty. For example, instead of paycheques, I got excuses.

    “I didn’t realise I was going to get paid in excuses around here.” I said once.

    “Do you want to die?” Is how they responded, and that was the end of that.

    Anyway, I am not guilty of anything. True, a judge may later decide differently, but for now, I am not guilty of anything.

    However…

    Gang at the Daily Planet aside, journalists are an unscrupulous lot. The things they will do for a scoop!

    If even one of them finds out, somehow, that you’re a police informant, next thing you know, six of them are beating down your door. And the things they will offer you!  Money, whores… You name it.

    “What I think I will really need pretty quick here, besides a good lawyer, is a job.” I told one of them.

    “I can arrange that.” Said “Bernstein”.

    So there you have it. That’s how you can become, like me, an investigative reporter. Strictly speaking, this also is “not exactly legal”.

    It might seem foolish to announce this kind of conduct publicly on the internet like this. But the truth is that nobody, other than a guy in France and a guy in South Korea, is reading this. Or maybe they’re chicks. Who knows? Who cares? Either way, I love you two. Send pictures. Kisses.

    So now I work for the community newspaper. It’s not the nice one. It’s the local freebie. In fact, that’s what it’s called; “The Local Freebie”. Some people call it a rag, and that’s just those of us who work there. But it is a job , and it pays. Well, it doesn’t exactly “pay”, but it has it’s perks.
   
    For example, J.J. Beaman, the owner of the Local Freebie, also owns the local television station, CHDC.
   
    As with the newspaper, CHDC is not renowned for it‘s pedigree. Nevertheless, for a community that has not a lot to take pride in, we take a lot of unwarranted pride in our locally produced programming. In fact, a few of these have gained some small amount of fame outside of the community, including:

    Poppa Wheelie - This motorcycle with eyes and a handlebar moustache was a Saturday morning character from the late seventies. In later years, a series of anti-drug PSAs, featuring Poppa Wheelie, were produced to stave off the character’s waning popularity. However, Poppa’s habit of winking at the camera was misinterpreted as insincerity. A nation wide scandal broke out, believing this character was promoting drug use to children. A late 80’s effort to revive the character as a wise cracking skateboard was met with resounding indifference.

    Velocirappa - A mid-nineties effort to create a new popular children’s character. Although this dinosaur’s rhymes about letters and numbers went largely unnoticed, somebody somewhere mistakenly saw some potential in it. A Velocirappa video game resulted, made for the original Playstation. But even back then, copies were hard to acquire. Finding one was only slightly easier that finding somebody who wanted one.

    Anyway, there’s a lot of crossover by the staff between the paper and the TV station. I’m hoping to have the same kind of luck. Really, I’m just hoping to get a job at the station in any capacity.

    Of course, before hiring me, Mr. Beaman wanted to meet with me. Thus, I found myself in his office one Sunday morning.

    “Do you know why you’re here?” he said.

    “For a job.” I replied.

    “Right. But why are you here right now? It’s Sunday morning. Doesn’t that strike you as a little unusual? I mean, why not Monday morning? Who does this on a Sunday?”

    “Well, when you put it that way, yeah. It does seem kind of unusual.” I replied.

    “So what do you think is going on here?”

    “That‘s what I want to know.”

    “There it is!” Beaman exclaimed with delight. “The newsman’s instincts.”

    “The what?”

    “Newsman‘s instincts. For uncovering the truth. Getting to the bottom of things. This is at the foundation of your character. Isn’t it?”

    “Yeah.” I said.
   
    “Now look at me. I’m forty-two. You weren’t expecting that. Were you?”

    “Not really.”

    “You were expecting some stuffed old suit. But I’m not even wearing a suit. Look at what I‘m wearing. It’s a leather jacket. It has a zipper on the sleeve. You weren't expecting that.”

    “I wasn’t.” I admitted.

    “And look at me. I’m a handsome guy. How come I’m still single? My mother can’t explain it. She says to me ‘You’re such a handsome boy. How can you still be a bachelor at your age? Why can’t you just meet a nice girl?’ and she‘s right to wonder. Why am I like that?”

    “I don‘t know.” I said.

    “Exactly. And that’s the point. I like to keep you on your toes. Keep you guessing. I like to cultivate an air of uncertainty around me. I’m in the news business. I run a newspaper and a TV station and I hire a lot of reporters. People who have to ask a lot questions. How am I supposed to know who's asking questions if there’s nothing around to ask questions about?”

    “That’s a good question.” I agreed.

    “I’m glad you picked up on that.” Beaman said, pouring two tall glasses of scotch.

    “I think you’re going to work out here just fine.”