There it was. He had rousted the great
beast, disturbed its slumber. He wasn’t sure if he had meant to or
not. Foolish pride? It glared at him with its steaming fiery
eyes, sizing him up. Its tail twitched in the dim
light. He stood frozen for what seemed an hour, wondering if this
would be the end, if his luck had finally run out. Would this
creature devour him here.
The beast snorted.
That was all.
He had elicited a
snort.
He exhaled, relieved but a bit taken
aback, dare he say disappointed; disappointed not to be dead? He
stood for a moment shaking from the adrenaline and tension. "Beast,
I will make a meal for you yet, " he muttered as he stomped off.
"What was that? D’you say something?"
Billy, glanced back at the news editor,
"Hrmph… nothing."
He knew the story wasn’t worth two
bits, small time political scandal, one where the poor slob
bureaucrat got a luxury car, a few bucks or other such
nonsense. Small time stuff. Everybody was scraping by. It’s just
one tiny little stupid little story awash in a sea of similar tiring
uninteresting shit. He was boring himself thinking about it. Why
the hell had he written the piece in the first place? He fancied
himself an investigative journalist. Journalist, now there’s a funny
word, conjures up a mythical mission to expose the underbelly of the
beast, be the final check and balance to any system of government.
Billy smiled. He felt better again. Gotta pump myself up, he
thought, as he left the office.
"In a slump, Billy?" a woman asked.
"Yeah… no. Well sorta. Too many
stinking rats around this place. Nobody cares about the damn things.
Oh sure they complain about them, but who’s gonna go clean ’em out?"
"You lost me." She pushed her
glasses against her brow, "Are you trying to get the city
exterminators on your bad side now?"
"Ho ho, you’re a damn
fine comedienne now aren’t you," he chuckled. "No, it’s just
that if I could take all the rats and cram ’em together into one big
unholy monster, I might have a story, that’s all."