Tuesday Tales: From the Word STUFF

This week, many of you are getting ready to celebrate Thanksgiving. While some have much to be grateful for, others feel even more dissatisfied than ever. Canadians celebrated their Thanksgiving in October, and while it was different and difficult to stay away from our loved one, we managed. Wishing you all a day of health, happiness and reflection.

This week’s Tuesday Tales scene continues with the clash between exes.

“Excuse me? Holding our past against you? You make it sound like I did something wrong.” She rolled her eyes and ground her teeth. “You cheated on me a week after we moved in together … and in my own bed. I wanted to burn the damn thing.”

“It was a one-time fling, and she hit on me,” he whined as if he were the offended party. “What’s a red-blooded man to do? I’m as flawed as the next guy. I said I was sorry, but you had to go all offended maiden on me. It wasn’t as if we were married. I was sowing the last of my wild oats. Now, let’s quit bickering about the past and get to the present. I’ve got half an hour to turn something in for the morning edition.”

She shook her head, the top knot sliding to the left. “If you’re expecting me to give you a story, then you’re shit out of luck. You know how it works. No comment.”

“Come on. Throw me a bone, babe,” he pleaded, using those puppy dog eyes that had misled her in the past. “All I want is confirmation. I recognized Al Foster, so I know whoever was back there had to be a missing person. The rookie keeping the crowd back, no doubt the first officer on the scene, lost his donuts—the stuff’s all over his shoes—but I don’t think he’s the only one.” He glanced down at her pants. “Must’ve been something really bad to upset the stone-hearted ice queen. The trashman, Phil Carmichael, likes to hear himself talk. I overheard him on the phone. He claims there was a naked white girl next to the dumpster, missing her guts and eyeballs—not the kind of thing girls generally lose. Have anything to add, Detective Reynolds? Who was she?”

Beth fisted her hands, her nails carving half-moons into her palms. Damn Carmichael. She’d told him to keep quiet, but a guy like that would never be able to resist his five minutes of fame. How many people had he spoken to?

“No comment,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “You want a story, show up at One P P for the daily briefing. Now, get the hell out of my way.”

“So the girl did have her innards ripped out by something just a week after the Zombie Walk. An unnamed source it is.”

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Happy Thanksgiving!