3. No Rest for the Wicked

With fists clenched, her right hand strangling a piece of paper, legs pumping and normally well-groomed hair thrown in disarray, Alyssa Ashcroft stormed through the hallways of the Raccoon Today building with the ferocity of a tiger. With incredible speed she shoved her way through doors like rushing water unleashed from a dam, as other workers in the building quickly stepped out of her way, knowing full well the wrath of this woman once enraged (and perhaps even without provocation).

She burst into the editor's office and shoved his secretary aside, almost knocking her down, and shoved the door to the office so hard it banged against the wall with great force. There she stood, chest heaving, a wild and lunatic expression on her face as she tossed the crumbled up memo in her hand at the editor, caught by surprise by her sudden entrance.

"You sorry bastard," Alyssa bellowed. "Who do you think you are to toy with me like this? We had a DEAL!"

"Miss Ashcroft," editor Stanley Spiegelman said with a cocky smile. "Aren't we a bit feisty today? I certainly hope you transgress that energy into a good solid article for me."

"You said if I did that stupid article on the high school you'd give me the big one, the kidnappings and the murders and the incident at the mansion," Alyssa said, banging her fist against the desk to emphasize her point. "What the hell is this? Some stupid story on a bar now! Who the hell do you think I am, buster! I am a professional, dammit! This small time crap is not going to cut it!"

"Please Alyssa, calm down," Spiegelman said, getting up from his desk and walking around it towards Alyssa. "Your yelling like a banshee won't help your situation."

"Oh really," Alyssa straightened her hair a bit. "Then you tell me what will Stan, cuz right now you got a lot of explaining to do."

"I guess there's no other option than to be brutally honest now," Spiegelman said, now standing face to face with Alyssa. "The truth is, Alyssa, I don't like you. Everyone else in this building may think differently, but to be honest everything about you sickens me, and your attitude and lack of proper respect for me is not changing my mind any quicker."

"Oh really? And why is that Stanley, because I don't kiss your ass like every other gutless worm that steps into this room? Because I don't drop to my knees and beg for a good story like that red headed bimbo I always see in here, and always seems to get the stuff worth giving a damn about? Or is she doing more than begging, Stanley? That sounds like a really riveting story!"

The smirk on Stanley's face quickly disappeared. "That's enough, Alyssa."

"Oh but we've only begun to scratch the surface!"

"I know why don't respect me, Alyssa. It's because you can't stand to be subservient to any man, no matter who it is, because you have some sort of feminist issue. The idea that I, a man, am in charge here, and have the power to steer your career wherever I damn well please just eats at the back of your brain, doesn't it? It gets your titties in a twister and kicks your PMS, or whatever it is you people get, into full gear, because you know that I control your destiny, and at the slightest whim, I can CRUSH you like the insignificant bugs that you ARE."

Alyssa stood firmly, the boiling rage inside her constantly rising.

"Nothing to say now, Miss Ashcroft?" The cocky smirk reemerged on Spiegelman's face, his body now in full swagger. "How about you get to work on that story for me now? I'm sure someone will be interested. After all, you being the talented journalist that you are, I'm sure even you can turn this into the story of the century! Now get out of my office before I call the police."

The two stood eye to eye with each other for a few seconds longer, Alyssa looking on the verge of exploding, until Alyssa took a few steps away towards the door.

"Alyssa," Stanley said. "If you really want that story, I can still give it to you. But, you'd have to do one favor for me first."

Stanley unzipped his pants and laughed.

That's it, Alyssa thought, as she quickly stepped forward and, like a professional punter, launched her high-heeled foot right into Stanley Spiegelman's crotch. Spiegelman let out a girlish howl and crumbled to the floor in a fetal position. Alyssa fixed her hair again and looked down at the helpless editor, a smirk on her face.

"God that felt good."