Well it's just another day working as a journalist for the New York Times. That's right, I'm a newsman. I report the facts, jack, and nothing else. I'm investigating the mayor's office for dumping toxic waste in the river, just as I suspected. The city's corrupt--corrupt to the bone. And it's up to me to shine a light on the filth. I'm following up on a lead-- a young gal who's working for the mayor, wants to do the right thing, wants to blow the whistle. Well, that's a tough cookie, and I told her that. I can't protect her if this whole business goes south. But she's a real firecracker, and she wants to tell the truth. Just like I do everyday in my newspaper, the New York Times. I've only spoken with her over the phone. Pretty voice, like a doll's voice-- but it's time to meet in person. I make sure I wasn't followed. I get there early to make sure there's no funny business going on. She arrives at the scene, and boy, what a looker. Tall redhead--dangerous, just the way I like 'em--with bright red lipstick and high heels. "Hi, thanks for--" "Listen, cookie, I ain't got all day. Let's just cut the chit-chat and get on with business. The less we see of each other the better. You know what Mayor Watts will do to us if he catches us together? Do ya? He'll call on his henchman Doyle to come after us. And when he sends Doyle after you, boy, you're gonna get it. He'll pick you up, take ya somewhere downtown, take you to one of those deserted warehouses, and he'll go to town on you. He'll slice your tits off, baby. He'll slice your tits off and shove 'em right up your cunt. But he won't be done. He doesn't wanna kill you, see, he wants to make you suffer. He'll heat up a cast-iron pan and use it to cauterize the wounds. Then he'll cut your eyelids off. He'll cut em off so you can't blink and then shine a big light in them. Then he's gonna burn ya. Oh, he'll burn ya good. He'll put cigarettes out on you. He'll throw acid in your face. He'll rip your fingernails out. And me? I don't even wanna think about what he'll do to me. And I'd just be kickin' myself for getting caught because some dame couldn't shut her yap. Because some gal in way over her head couldn't stop jabberin' on and on instead of telling me what I gotta know. So why don't we just skip the "hello"s and the "how ya doin'"s and get down to brass tacks, doll?" "Well, I--" "Listen, honey, I get it. You're a hot tamale. The belle of the ball--a real beauty queen. A fella looks at you and he knows the only way he'll ever see a gal like you naked is in some dirty magazine. You got guys droolin' over you, left and right. You're used to getting attention, used to fellas waiting on ya hand and foot. Well listen, toots--I don't have time to chase skirt. I don't have time to run after broads. The only thing I run after is the truth, see? The facts. I'm a newspaperman. I've always been a newspaperman, and that means something to me. It's about the only damn thing that means anything these days. Girls like you, you're nothin' but trouble. So why don't you just tell me what I need to know, baby?" "I've got the pictures right here," she says, handing me the prints. "It's just as you said, he's dumping the toxic waste into the river." I look them over. Just as I suspected. "Just as I suspected," I said. "He's dumping the toxic waste right into the river." "But why?" she asked. "Well, angelcakes, Mayor Watts just opened up a new power plant that's powering the whole damn city. He's making a fortune off of it. Only he doesn't want to pay the toxic waste tax. So he's been dumping it into the river, see?" "No...no it can't be," she cries, shaking her head. "He wouldn't do that! He would never be so corrupt." I slap her right on the face and shake her. "Oh yeah, then what do you think he's dumping into the river, glamor girl? Sunshine and unicorns? Get a grip, doll." "I just couldn't believe he'd do something like that...I just can't believe it..." "Yeah, well," I say, lighting up a cigarette, "when you've been around as long as I have, you get used to it." "You know," she says, "you're kinda handsome when you yell like that." ***** Later that night we are making love, and I'm pounding her with my big dick, no condom. I cum inside her and start getting dressed. "Can you get me a glass of water?" she asks, innocently enough. "No thanks, cupcake. I've got a story to write," I say, putting my jacket on. "Not so fast," she says from behind me. "Hands up." She's got a revolver pointed right at me, locked and loaded. "You ever use one of those before, apple?" She shoots me right in the foot without blinking. "The next one'll be through your abdomen, sugar." I gotta think fast. What's this gal want with me? Why hold me at gunpoint? Something wasn't adding up. "What's this about, huh, dreamboat? This how you get your kicks?" "You were right about the Mayor. He knew you were asking questions. He knew you were getting too close. That's why he called on me to take care of it." Suddenly, it hit me: this dame had been working for Watts the whole time. The red lipstick, the high heels--she was setting me up from the beginning. "You know, the mayor's only using you. The second you become a liability, he'll have Doyle take you at. I've seen it a thou--" ***** I wake up and that brute Doyle is looking over me. I'm at the lake where they dump the toxic waste, and my sweetheart's still got that revolver pointed at me. "Well, well, well," the mayor begins, "look who we have here, Doyle." He and Doyle smile at each other. "A nosy little reporter who couldn't keep his nose out of other people's business." "You'll never get away with this, Watts. I'm a newsman, see? The New York Times--ever heard of it? You kill a reporter like this in the middle of this investigation and everybody will be lookin' at you." "They won't know about the investigation, Mr. Newsman...Doyle was at your office while my little honeybug kept you busy. He destroyed all the files." "OK, but I mean I told other people at the office about it. Like everyone knows, and destroying the files will only make them more suspicious." Suddenly, it hits me: they were dumping toxic waste in a river, not a lake. Where were we? Just then, a shot rings out. Then another. Doyle and the mayor drop dead, and my cute little dollface is holding the gun. "Why'd you do that?" I ask. "Oh...oh I couldn't do it. I...I'm in love with you. I love everything about you. Oh, let's run away together--" I grab her arms and tie them behind her back, taking the gun away from her. "What are you doing?" she asks. "I'm placing you under citizen's arrest for the murder of Mayor Watts and his bodyguard," I reply. "What? But why? Sweetheart, they were going to murder you!" "Yeah, well, two wrongs don't make a right, toots. You could've shot them in the legs. I'm a newsman, not a murderer." The police officers arrive soon and take her away. It was a long night, and I had a story to write. Sometimes, life throws a curveball at ya. But sometimes, ya gotta swing anyway. And when you swing? You gotta aim for the fences. You-- "Excuse me," one of the police officers stops me. "Why are you holding that vase?"