Friday, October 28, 2016

The Reporter

The "reporter" was jumpy. They all were. That didn't surprise Rick, he had too much experience dealing with these types of people. Unfortunately, his strategy of ignoring them wouldn't work in this case, when they had him cornered in his own apartment.
"What is your name?"
Rick didn't respond.
"Sir, what is your name?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you the first time. My name's Philip Hornbuckle." Rick lied. There was no way in hell these people were going to get any real information out of him.
"Professional Hubcap Waxer."
"And where do you work?"
"Olive Garden." Rick knew these people didn't pay attention to what he was saying. They're more like copy machines than people. All they did was read a script and write down responses. This back and forth went on for a while, Rick continuing to give nonsensical answers the whole time. Man, Hornbuckle's going to be very confused when he reads about himself. Rick thought to himself. After what seemed like an eternity, the reporter finally left.

Friday, September 23, 2016

Short Circuits and Shortcomings

Rick wasn't there when the generator blew, but of course it somehow affected him anyway. The generator popped a fuse, and although he was halfway across the neighborhood from it, an electrical surge flew down the wire and tripped every fuse in his small shack of a radio station, and blew a few out. Those would have to be replaced, but that wasn't his biggest issue at this current time. Of course he had to be in the oldest, most unstable building in a 4 mile radius. Luckily for Rick, his hour and a half long local news program just went off the air, so no harm done there. He sighed and put away his recording equipment: a $30 headset with the foam covering almost all degraded, a $40 microphone that he had bought 6 years ago when he started the radio station, and while it had not failed him yet, it no longer could record in stereo audio. His rent was overdue. This wouldn't usually bother Rick, if it hadn't been for the fact it had been overdue for three months. He'd stop by the bank on the way home, pick up some money to pay for the rent. He didn't like having to use his savings, but the station wasn't getting any sort of profit. He wanted to be able to pay for everything using only the money he made now, and not the money he made being a coach for the Pittsburgh Steelers twenty years ago. He had left football behind after what had happen- no, no time to think about that. He set out to go to the bank. It was a pretty long walk for him, and it didn't help he had a limp either. The streets were covered in trash, as usual, but there seemed to be something missing from the air. 

Perhaps it's just the lack of sound from the generator, Rick thought. That thing was pretty loud. Maybe they'll replace it.

He had known for weeks that the generator was in bad shape, ever since he interviewed the foreman of the electrical plant 5 miles away for a story. He didn't know, however, how bad it really was. He saw the bank as he rounded the corner. Closed. Apparently the power had gone out for them as well. He slowly hobbled past, stopped, sighed, and continued onward towards the Victorian. When he got to the door, he mentally prepared himself for a "conversation" with Ellen. As he opened the door, he peered around. Nobody around.

Thank God, Rick thought to himself.

He limped as fast as possible past the front desk and towards the staircase. Four staircases later, and he was in his bed. The sun had set.