Keywords: newspaper tingle flavor
Jimmie Olsen felt that familiar tingle each time he entered the city room. He was still just a cub reporter, but he had big plans. Why, only today he had been the first one on the scene when that prowl car had jumped the curb and hit the fire hydrant. Front page, he just knew it! If only he’d been carrying a camera.
As he rushed toward Perry White’s office, bursting with the news of his scoop, he was disappointed to see that Lois Lane was already in there, yammering about something. Well, heck! Just because she claims to know Superman. He decided to stop and see what Clark Kent was working on.
“Hi, Mr.Kent! What’s the news today?” Jimmie was trying to sound very professional.
“Well, Jimmie, it seems that there’s a flower show in Metropolis today, and Mr. White needs me to cover the story,” smiled Clark. “How about you? Got the big story yet?”
“I thought I did, but the more I think about it, maybe it’s not so important.”
Clarksmiled again, “You just keep trying, you’ll get there! I better get going, don’t want those flowers to wilt.”
“Heck, Mr.Kent, how can I get there if nothing ever happens in our town? Some days, we don’t even need a newspaper here; nothing to report!”
“Good luck, Jimmie, see you later.”
Jimmie went to the back of the city room and found his chair. He really didn’t have a desk, it was just sort of a dais thing, but it was his. He was feeling sorry for himself again. Kat French and Marian Allen always seemed to find the stories; what was their secret? Maybe he needed go out and sample the nightlife of Metropolis; really get the flavor of the city.
The workday was finally over and Jimmie headed to his rented room, determined to make some changes; he needed to dig up some news to prove himself. He had a pair of plus-four pants that still looked pretty good, and a flashy pair of argyle socks that should let him fit right in with the night crowd. Top it all off with his tweed jacket, sweater vest, and bowtie; he’d knock ‘em dead!
He strolled downtown past some of the swanky clubs, trying to sniff out some news. It was pretty late for him, almost nine o’clock; he hoped he hadn’t missed what the evening had to offer.
As he passed a dark alleyway, he heard someone making a kind of hissing noise as he motioned to Jimmie, “Pssst, hey buddy, come here!” The fellow was dressed in a dark suit and hat and was holding a violin case. Jimmie walked over, curious.
The man was whispering again, “Want to make a quick sawbuck? I just need you to carry this into the Italian restaurant over there and wait for me. When I come in, you give me the case, got it?”
“Gee whillikers, ten bucks for just doing that? What’s it all about?”
More whispering, “It’s a kind of a surprise, see? The guest of honor don’t know that there’ll be music tonight. So, how about it?”
Jimmie didn’t see a problem with it. “Sure, I could use the money; rent’s coming due next week. Give me the case, I’ll go on in.”
Hmmm, seems awfully heavy for a violin, but what do I know about music? Jimmie went into the restaurant and waited over by the kitchen door for his benefactor. Just then he felt something being jabbed into his ribs, and someone spoke softly to him from behind, “Let’s go out back. Try anything funny and you’ll be breathing out of some new holes in your back.”
Jimmie gasped, but walked carefully backwards out the rear door, being almost towed by the new fellow, who seemed tall and very strong.
“Don’t look at me, just open the case, show me what you got there, “he said, in his whispery voice.
Jimmie opened the case, being careful not to look up at the guy’s face.
Just then a cat bounded out of a trashcan in the alley and woke Jimmie up from his nap. He yawned, “Wow, I wish something like that would happen here! What a story!”