Journalists Anonymous
By Phoebsfan
phoebs_fan2001@yahoo.com
website: www.geocities.com/phoebs_fan2001
Feedback is worshipped at phoebs_fan2001@yahoo.com
Distribution: Archive if you'd like just drop me a line via email and keep all this attached.
Disclaimer: Alias is not owned by me and never will be… sigh… ABC, and Touchtone seem to have beaten me too it… But then JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions… well… I guess I just don't even fall on the list of people who own and create… I'm just a measly fanfiction writer. I also don't own Beanie Babies or Gilligan's Island and it's theme song.
Summery: Will questions his career choice.
Rating: PG for lang.
Classification: Humor
It's raining. Of course it's raining, it has been all day. Guess the gods have it in for me today.
Sure, I'm blaming what are probably fictious creations for my block. Yeah that sounds about write, I mean right. Apparently even my subconscious is telling me to let it out.
So… Still nothing. Twenty minutes later and I still haven't written one line.
In case you're interested it's still raining. Way to state to obvious.
Maybe if I actually had a topic worth writing something about then I wouldn't be sitting here. But no, the new guy Will gets handed some lame human interest piece on the fine art of collecting, get this cause this is really the kicker, the fine art of collecting, oh cue the drum roll, beanie babies.
So I'm thinking of doing this whole cover page exposé on the seedier side of elementary school. Beanie Baby collecting innocent fun or dangerous fad.
I can see it now, all those prepubescent blowing their hard earned allowances on toys that are really just socks stuffed with beans, and it's not even real beans but plastic pellets. I guess Plastic Pellet Pals didn't go over too well with the market.
Update on the weather… How did you know I was going to say it's still raining?
" This coffee tastes horrible. I thought you knew the way I liked it. Now go get me a new cup and make it quick."
I hold back a chuckle as the boss's assistant runs, almost crying from her office. I can't help but pity the poor girl though. I've been here two days and I'm still hiding behind the file cabinets.
"This topic is horrible. I thought you knew that no one cares. Now go get me a new topic." Sure, like I could actually just tell my new boss to shove it.
I don't like the topic but I do like being employed. I mean the paycheck thing is kind of nice. It might be nice to actually have some money. Hey who knows maybe I could blow it on some Beanie Babies.
I hear there's a guy selling them for real cheap down the street. He claims to have that one that's retired… I think it's a cat or something. Hell who knows what it is. Who cares?
"Stop tapping your pencil it's driving me insane."
I don't know the guy's name yet but he looks menacing and he writes for the sports column. Though in my short experience guys that write for the sports column often write cause they can't play. Still I don't want to test that theory.
Maybe they should form some sort of support group for guys like me. Guys with impossible topics. Yeah Journalist's anonymous.
Hello my name is Will Tippin and I'm recovering from a near fatal experience with a Beanie Baby piece. I nearly died of boredom. Even the third graders I interviewed laughed at me. They said that Beanie Baby collecting was and I quote, "So five minutes ago."
I don't think that the title of journalist could even apply in that situation actually. Maybe obedient monkey, mindless clone, newspaper newbie. I don't know I kind of like the newbie one myself.
Hey guess what, it's still raining. Whoopde freaking doda.
Would it look bad if I quit now? I wonder how hard it would be to get another job like this one.
"Well Tippin looks like you're keeping busy."
I think she writes for the help and advice column. Her name is Judy and I do have her number.
"Hey Judy I got a question for you."
"Shoot."
"How long do you think it will take me to bore my eyeballs out with this pencil?"
"That bad huh?"
"Nah. I mean I don't think I'd mind being blind all that much. Except for the writing thing. But then keyboards have those little knobby things for your fingers on like the 'f' and 'g' key so I could still pull off the typing thing…"
"What do you got?" Judy interrupts.
"Five third graders who say and I quote," I pick up my paper to read what I have written. "Beanie baby collecting is so five minutes ago. It's immature and besides the school don't allow it, end quote. I think I'll change that don't to a doesn't but after that…"
"Good luck on that Tippin." She starts to walk away with an amused smile.
"Hey I could really use some help here." Translation: Please don't leave me I'll go insane. I'll eat my fingers off. Bore out my eyes and end up rocking in the corner humming the theme to Gilligan's Island in my underwear.
"Hey maybe you could write a letter to the advice lady."
"Ha ha. Seriously I'm losing it."
"Go outside and get some fresh air then. Run around a little. Sitting there and staring at your screen isn't getting you anywhere and you haven't left your desk since you got here a good five hours ago."
I cast a pointed look at the window. Have I mentioned that it's still raining?
Now would be the moment where everyone jumps up on their desks and says, 'oh my gosh it's raining. Imagine that, we never noticed.'
"You should write the humor section Judy." She only smiles as she disappears around the corner.
Screwed. Yeah I'm screwed.
Maybe I should change my career path. Get involved in that bank thing that Sydney's taken up. She gets paid decently enough and how hard could it be to count out change. Though her hours really suck and she's always gone on business trips. But that could be a perk too.
I mean it's not like I'm going to be seeing anything exciting on the elementary school playgrounds.
I decide to focus on this story. I mean she can't keep me doing brainless pieces like this forever.
Silence. Just the click of keys busily typing away.
"Hey would you collect Beanie Babies?" I address the sports guy.
He smiles and points to a filing cabinet.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask.
"The reason you got that piece." He offers and continues looking at me. I know he's expecting me to go and open the drawer. And honestly it's killing me not to.
I turn around and stare at the blank screen in front of me for an unimaginably long time.
You know words don't just write themselves, if I had any doubt of that before my blank screen is now a testament to it. The world would be a whole lot easier if they did.
It's been thirty minutes since I talked to the sports guy.
And guess what… Yeah it's still raining out there. It's actually picked up. I'm wondering how I'm going to get in my car without getting completely soaked.
I don't think it's possible.
I can't take it any longer and I get up and go to the filing cabinet. It's marked with a piece of tape warning people away.
Oh yeah like it's going to bite me if I open it. Still I make sure that everyone is busy before taking a peek.
My life is over. The sticker was right.
The drawer is filled with Beanie Babies.
It's official, I hate my life.
"See you found the boss' collection." The sports guys smirks. I smirk back.
That pencil looks really inviting right now.
Yeah I can see it now. Journalist loses eyesight in a freak accident. Beanie babies took my eyes. The plastic pellet people made me do it.
I think I'm going home.
"Tippin!" I hope she knows I don't do coffee.
Just sit right back and I'll tell you the tale…
By Phoebsfan
phoebs_fan2001@yahoo.com
website: www.geocities.com/phoebs_fan2001
Feedback is worshipped at phoebs_fan2001@yahoo.com
Distribution: Archive if you'd like just drop me a line via email and keep all this attached.
Disclaimer: Alias is not owned by me and never will be… sigh… ABC, and Touchtone seem to have beaten me too it… But then JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions… well… I guess I just don't even fall on the list of people who own and create… I'm just a measly fanfiction writer. I also don't own Beanie Babies or Gilligan's Island and it's theme song.
Summery: Will questions his career choice.
Rating: PG for lang.
Classification: Humor
It's raining. Of course it's raining, it has been all day. Guess the gods have it in for me today.
Sure, I'm blaming what are probably fictious creations for my block. Yeah that sounds about write, I mean right. Apparently even my subconscious is telling me to let it out.
So… Still nothing. Twenty minutes later and I still haven't written one line.
In case you're interested it's still raining. Way to state to obvious.
Maybe if I actually had a topic worth writing something about then I wouldn't be sitting here. But no, the new guy Will gets handed some lame human interest piece on the fine art of collecting, get this cause this is really the kicker, the fine art of collecting, oh cue the drum roll, beanie babies.
So I'm thinking of doing this whole cover page exposé on the seedier side of elementary school. Beanie Baby collecting innocent fun or dangerous fad.
I can see it now, all those prepubescent blowing their hard earned allowances on toys that are really just socks stuffed with beans, and it's not even real beans but plastic pellets. I guess Plastic Pellet Pals didn't go over too well with the market.
Update on the weather… How did you know I was going to say it's still raining?
" This coffee tastes horrible. I thought you knew the way I liked it. Now go get me a new cup and make it quick."
I hold back a chuckle as the boss's assistant runs, almost crying from her office. I can't help but pity the poor girl though. I've been here two days and I'm still hiding behind the file cabinets.
"This topic is horrible. I thought you knew that no one cares. Now go get me a new topic." Sure, like I could actually just tell my new boss to shove it.
I don't like the topic but I do like being employed. I mean the paycheck thing is kind of nice. It might be nice to actually have some money. Hey who knows maybe I could blow it on some Beanie Babies.
I hear there's a guy selling them for real cheap down the street. He claims to have that one that's retired… I think it's a cat or something. Hell who knows what it is. Who cares?
"Stop tapping your pencil it's driving me insane."
I don't know the guy's name yet but he looks menacing and he writes for the sports column. Though in my short experience guys that write for the sports column often write cause they can't play. Still I don't want to test that theory.
Maybe they should form some sort of support group for guys like me. Guys with impossible topics. Yeah Journalist's anonymous.
Hello my name is Will Tippin and I'm recovering from a near fatal experience with a Beanie Baby piece. I nearly died of boredom. Even the third graders I interviewed laughed at me. They said that Beanie Baby collecting was and I quote, "So five minutes ago."
I don't think that the title of journalist could even apply in that situation actually. Maybe obedient monkey, mindless clone, newspaper newbie. I don't know I kind of like the newbie one myself.
Hey guess what, it's still raining. Whoopde freaking doda.
Would it look bad if I quit now? I wonder how hard it would be to get another job like this one.
"Well Tippin looks like you're keeping busy."
I think she writes for the help and advice column. Her name is Judy and I do have her number.
"Hey Judy I got a question for you."
"Shoot."
"How long do you think it will take me to bore my eyeballs out with this pencil?"
"That bad huh?"
"Nah. I mean I don't think I'd mind being blind all that much. Except for the writing thing. But then keyboards have those little knobby things for your fingers on like the 'f' and 'g' key so I could still pull off the typing thing…"
"What do you got?" Judy interrupts.
"Five third graders who say and I quote," I pick up my paper to read what I have written. "Beanie baby collecting is so five minutes ago. It's immature and besides the school don't allow it, end quote. I think I'll change that don't to a doesn't but after that…"
"Good luck on that Tippin." She starts to walk away with an amused smile.
"Hey I could really use some help here." Translation: Please don't leave me I'll go insane. I'll eat my fingers off. Bore out my eyes and end up rocking in the corner humming the theme to Gilligan's Island in my underwear.
"Hey maybe you could write a letter to the advice lady."
"Ha ha. Seriously I'm losing it."
"Go outside and get some fresh air then. Run around a little. Sitting there and staring at your screen isn't getting you anywhere and you haven't left your desk since you got here a good five hours ago."
I cast a pointed look at the window. Have I mentioned that it's still raining?
Now would be the moment where everyone jumps up on their desks and says, 'oh my gosh it's raining. Imagine that, we never noticed.'
"You should write the humor section Judy." She only smiles as she disappears around the corner.
Screwed. Yeah I'm screwed.
Maybe I should change my career path. Get involved in that bank thing that Sydney's taken up. She gets paid decently enough and how hard could it be to count out change. Though her hours really suck and she's always gone on business trips. But that could be a perk too.
I mean it's not like I'm going to be seeing anything exciting on the elementary school playgrounds.
I decide to focus on this story. I mean she can't keep me doing brainless pieces like this forever.
Silence. Just the click of keys busily typing away.
"Hey would you collect Beanie Babies?" I address the sports guy.
He smiles and points to a filing cabinet.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask.
"The reason you got that piece." He offers and continues looking at me. I know he's expecting me to go and open the drawer. And honestly it's killing me not to.
I turn around and stare at the blank screen in front of me for an unimaginably long time.
You know words don't just write themselves, if I had any doubt of that before my blank screen is now a testament to it. The world would be a whole lot easier if they did.
It's been thirty minutes since I talked to the sports guy.
And guess what… Yeah it's still raining out there. It's actually picked up. I'm wondering how I'm going to get in my car without getting completely soaked.
I don't think it's possible.
I can't take it any longer and I get up and go to the filing cabinet. It's marked with a piece of tape warning people away.
Oh yeah like it's going to bite me if I open it. Still I make sure that everyone is busy before taking a peek.
My life is over. The sticker was right.
The drawer is filled with Beanie Babies.
It's official, I hate my life.
"See you found the boss' collection." The sports guys smirks. I smirk back.
That pencil looks really inviting right now.
Yeah I can see it now. Journalist loses eyesight in a freak accident. Beanie babies took my eyes. The plastic pellet people made me do it.
I think I'm going home.
"Tippin!" I hope she knows I don't do coffee.
Just sit right back and I'll tell you the tale…