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Another day, another dollar. Yeah, well, in my business, we said another day, another story. That's right, I was a reporter-- I was always trying to get the scoop. When the mayor was embezzling money, I got the scoop. When the chief of police working with the mob, i got the scoop. When the oil companies were dumping waste into the river, I got the scoop. I was always there, getting the story before anyone else did. She was gorgeous. 6 feet tall and legs made of steel. She walked into my office, a redhead, asking for me, telling me she had a story for me. Well if you got a story for me, I listen. The scoop? The dock workers were in cahoots with the chinese, smuggling in heroin from Hanoi. They were sticking it in little dolls and selling it on the street. She grabs me, kisses me--I say, what are you doing? I've got a story to follow, don't you see? She looked at me with those eyes, tells me she loves me, wants to run away with me. Listen, lady, the only woman for me is justice, and the only thing I'm married to is the truth. Well I follow up on her story, do some digging, and she was right-- the chinks were bringing in the good stuff, straight from the fields, and selling it for cheap. I write it up and it makes the papers. Another front-page story for me I get home and pour myself some whiskey-- just like I do every night. It's not easy being a reporter. But I didn't choose this life-- this life chose me. Some people paint, some people make music-- this is what I do. And I wouldn't have it any other way.