The Gorging (5 page)

“I think I’ve got a good one this time.” Bobby held the legal pad up for Pete to see. “Read my headline.”

“Thousands Dead. Thousands More Sick.” Pete looked grimily at Bobby. He thought it seemed a little grim and harsh for something to be shown on the evening news in Wyoming. He really didn’t even know what it meant, though Pete already knew about the livestock incidents in Kentucky, but this sounded like it was for people being sick. “Are you referring to those dead cows back east?”

“Yeah.” Bobby set the legal pad down on his thin, short, gray desk. “You know about that already?”

“You’re fucking A-right I know about that.” Pete had a slight grin to his face. He knew something that Bobby didn’t know. It’s always fun to know something another writer doesn’t, but Pete would never steal the story idea from Bobby. They are best friends, and drinking buddies, too. “You didn’t know?”

“I just caught a glimpse of it on the radio and what I saw here on the computer.”

“Fucking cows, and chickens, and shit just up and died like that.” Pete snapped his fingers and made a face of what he thought a dead cow would look like with its tongue hanging out. Bobby thought Pete looked ridiculous, but with Pete’s spare tire around his waist, he could probably pass for a cow.

The phone on Bobby’s desk began to ring with a low tone. There were only two types of tones for the ringers in the Channel 4 news station. A low tone for inside calls and a high tone for calls coming from out of the building. Bobby knew exactly who would be on the other end when he picked it up. Mr. Masterson likes to call first thing in the morning to screw with Bobby. He partly does it because Bobby’s father and Mr. Masterson grew up together and went hunting and fishing all the time, but he mostly does it because he’s just a prick.

“Hello.” Bobby held the phone to his ear, while Pete was in the background making humping impressions and putting his fingers in his nose like a little kid ready to eat his buggers. Pete’s mission in life at that moment would be to make Bobby laugh while on the phone with Masterson. Bobby raised his middle finger for Pete to have the pleasure of seeing up close in his face.

“Bobby.” Mr. Masterson spoke loud enough for Pete to hear the conversation. “Get your ass in my office. Pronto.” The clanking sound of the phone echoed in Bobby’s ear.

“Yes, sir.” Bobby said, pretending Masterson hadn’t hung up the phone. “I’ll be right there, sir.” He sat the phone down gently and looked at Pete.

“Well, what did the asshole want?” Pete bugged his eyes out at Bobby and punched his shoulder. “Come on. What did he want?”

“He wants me to come see him.” Bobby looked at Pete nervously. “Do you think he’s gonna fire me?”

“Why would he fire you?” Pete laughed. “You and me are the best writers he’s got. Besides, your dad and him go way back. If he fired you, your old man would just call him up and say ‘Hire my boy back.’”

“I don’t know. Should I bring up this story idea to him?” Bobby held up the legal pad.

“Fuck it. What have you got to lose?” Pete laughed again and flicked the yellow paper with Bobby’s crazy headline, THOUSANDS DEAD. THOUSANDS HOSPITALIZED. Pete didn’t really understand what Bobby had to lose if he got fired. It’s not the money that’s important. No. Nikki’s money is more than enough. It’s his self-pride and his manhood in question. He would end up in the slumps and slip off into a deep depression if he had to be the one washing the dishes and running the vacuum cleaner at home. He would hate himself for having to load the washing machine and pick up the dog shit before the flies came around. That’s not what he wants to do sitting at home every day while the wife is out bringing in the goods. He would have a hard time doing any writing in his books dealing with all the everyday household chores. Pete feels the same way, but he won’t admit it. If Bobby were fired, Pete knows he would be next. Bobby’s the best, and if the best gets the boot, then second best is sure to hit the highway.

“I better get in there before he comes looking—”

The phone rang again in that low miserable tone. Pete and Bobby looked at each other.

“You gonna answer it?” Pete said as he pointed to the phone.

Bobby picked up the phone and slowly put it to his ear. His expression went from wondering who would be calling again, to knowing it was that lowlife dickhead on the other end again. “Yes, sir.” He jerked his head as the loud clank echoed again in his ear. He hung up the receiver and looked at Pete. “He wants you to come with me.”

Pete’s smiling, childish grin was wiped away and replaced with the look of a man waiting in line to place his neck under a guillotine. Now all Pete could think about are both he and Bobby being kicked to the curb. Bobby brushed past Pete and slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go see the wizard, Toto.”

Back at the Evans residence, Nikki was feeling restless. She wanted so badly to sleep in that morning, but her nurse instinct kept bothering her and waking her. It was as though she felt a strong urge to know more about what Bob Varner was rambling on about. She grabbed the remote again, but tossed it back on the bed when she remembered they hadn’t gotten satellite television, just basic cable. This made her angry at Bobby for wanting such a thing, but how could she blame him for wanting to see his work, and wanting to see all his efforts being produced into something he could set his eyes on. Her accomplishments were always laying on a hospital bed in front of her, so she knew if she was doing a good job or not. A good job being the person left the hospital breathing. A bad job meaning they left the hospital not breathing, closed up in a black plastic bag with a zipper down the middle, headed for the Cheyenne Memorial Gardens Funeral Home.

She got out of bed and figured if she couldn’t watch the national news on television, she could catch it on the computer on one of many news websites. She walked over and sat down at the computer, and yawned. Maybe I’ll have a cup of coffee, she thought. She knew it would be a bad idea to drink coffee. After all, she would have to get some sleep after she satisfied her urge to look at the news on the computer. She went to kitchen and brewed up some instant coffee anyways.

She breathed in the smell of her favorite brand. The Starbucks blend. She could afford it, so that’s what she always bought. Now time to check out the news.

She sat there with her coffee mug in one hand and the other on the mouse, clicking away at the many stories that were already flooding the internet about Bob Varner’s broadcast this morning. It looked God-awful. She thought to herself how such a thing could happen. She was glad it was isolated to the southern part of the United States, but then she began to wonder how long that would last. How would this affect their current food supply? She had so many thoughts running through her mind about this, and she was nowhere near the root of the problem.

Bobby and Pete stood outside of Mr. Masterson’s door. It was closed and they were both scared and debating over who would be the one to put their timid hand to the wooden panel and knock. They both felt like little children going to the principal’s office to be punished for not turning in their schoolwork on time. They have every right to feel this way. That’s how Mr. Masterson treats his best employees, because he feels like it instills discipline and makes a better worker. All the employees think he’s just full of shit and wished he’d have a heart attack and no one would be around to pound on his chest and bring him back to life. They didn’t really want this because they would all be out of a job, but there’s nothing wrong with wishing. Right? If Masterson killed over, his son certainly couldn’t handle the action. Masterson’s deadbeat son was incapable of holding down even the easiest job in Cheyenne, which was shoveling cow shit on the farms for state minimum wage. So Junior Masterson running the news station would never happen. So much for job security.

“You knock.” Bobby pushed his hand against Pete’s chest, shoving him back a few inches.

“No. You do it.” Pete repeated the gesture. Kids will be kids.

“Just open the damn door.” Mr. Masterson yelled loud enough to sound as though the door had already been open the entire time.

Pete and Bobby looked at each other and simultaneously cleared their throats. The sweat had already begun to bead on their foreheads and it was visible in Pete’s armpits. Bobby wore Irish Spring, so his pits were nice and dry, but he was sweating everywhere else though. He could feel it drip down the sides of his legs and soak into his socks. Pete grabbed the door handle and turned it, causing the door to creep open. They both knew they were going to be fired. They just knew it. Maybe a misspelling that made it to the teleprompter, or maybe one of them screwed up a story that made it to the internet news site. Somebody screwed up, and Masterson would tell them who it was as soon as they got their scared little asses in his office.

“Good morning Mr. Masterson.” Pete said, his voice trembling. Bobby nodded the same, unable to speak. Mr. Masterson had a look on his face like someone pissed in his Wheaties.

“You two hear about those mass livestock herds dying in the southeast?” said Mr. Masterson, as he held his coffee cup in his hand.

“Yes sir,” Bobby said, thinking about his story idea right away. He had a feeling that Mr. Masterson was somehow breaking into his thoughts and stealing the idea before Bobby could ever bring it up. That must be how he always has the idea first. “I caught some off it on the radio this morning.”

“That’s right. You heard it on the radio. Probably saw it on television, too.” Mr. Masterson’s voice grew louder and he was making it known how upset he is. “You know where you didn’t hear it?”

“No,” said Pete.

“I don’t know either, sir,” said Bobby. In truth, Bobby and Pete knew exactly what their boss was about to tell them. It would be another blow up session on the little guys. The boss showing the employees whose in charge and bringing them down to an even lower level. Making himself feel big and better than all those who worked underneath him. Making them feel like abused children ready for another beating with the belt.

“I’ll tell you where you didn’t hear it,” said Mr. Masterson. “You fucking didn’t hear it on Channel 4 News, Cheyenne’s number one leading news station. Wait...Let me rephrase that. Cheyenne’s number two, second place, not in fucking first, news station. You know why?”

Bobby and Pete shook their heads.

“It’s because that shit-bird Franklin Donaldson over at Channel 5, along with his bitch Bob Varner. That’s why. They got the story out first while you two numbnuts where lying at home in bed groping you own cocks because your wife won’t rub up on you. That’s why.” Mr. Masterson always threw in the big words to make his people feel small. A great leader of troops he is.

“I think we can top their story,” said Pete, nervous as hell. He pointed to Bobby. Bobby looked at Pete, wanting him to shut up. “Bobby has a great idea for a story about the situation.”

“Really,” said Mr. Masterson. “Let me hear it.”


“Well—”


Mr. Masterson cut Bobby off before he could finish. To him, it didn’t matter if Bobby had the cure for AIDS or a way to prevent cancer. The only good story ideas are the ones that are conceived in Mr. Masterson’s mind. “You know what. I’ve got the perfect idea. Both of you will do this one together. You’re going to Kentucky and you’re going to get the story up close. We’ll show those Channel 5 scumbags how it’s supposed to be done.”

Bobby and Pete looked at each other for a moment and then back to Mr. Masterson. They knew it would be no good to argue with him about going to Kentucky. They didn’t even have to bother asking when they would be going. It would have been yesterday if Mr. Masterson could have his way. It would be first thing tomorrow morning. Just long enough for Pete and Bobby to go home and kiss their family goodbye, and then off to the south. The center of the unfolding tragedy of the unknown that is occurring as they speak.

Pete surely did not want to go to Kentucky. His wife Cheryl never wants him to be more than a ten-minute drive from home. When he started working for Channel 4, his wife threatened to leave if they didn’t move closer. She has a hard time being away from her husband for any long period of time. Pete was twenty-two when he married Cheryl, who was just eighteen at the time. She kind of leached on to him, and he took the roll of playing daddy to her. They never had any children because she was always afraid the children would steal her husband’s attention away. Bobby never talks about Pete’s wife, but commends him on being able to put up with such a crazy, needy woman. So for Pete, Kentucky would probably mean a possible suicide threat from his wife on his hands. He would be better off just going and then phoning her later on to tell her he made it okay. It would not be the greatest way to handle it, but Pete would feel better doing it that way, rather than dying in a murder suicide and having his story shown on the Channel 4 news. Mr. Masterson would surely take hold of that story idea and would probably be proud to know he caused it.

“You two are leaving first thing tomorrow,” said Mr. Masterson. He had a slight devilish looking smile to his face. “I booked your flights and hotel this morning. I got you a rental car. It’s a compact, but you two should be used to riding around in a girly car.” They were used to it, but wouldn’t admit it if asked.

Bobby looked at Pete and then looked at Mr. Masterson. Bobby knew his plans of going to Denver for the weekend were gone now. He knew that Eddie would be looking forward to a trip like that. Poor Eddie.