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One More Chance!
I was sitting in the van, looking out of the window. Waiting and doing nothing! In my opinion I was a man of great calibre and courage but I could not possibly do all those stupid little press reports that my boss wanted me to do. After all, I was a creditable press reporter and my big break was just round the corner, I was sure of it. Any day I would grab a story so sensational that my boss would feel honoured having me on his team. I thought smiling to myself as I shifted to a more comfortable posture and put my feet in front of me.
I’d usually send Denny, my assistant, for small clippings like this one. It was about an eating competition and I was waiting for him to come back, floating in my thoughts. Suddenly my cellphone rang. ‘Hello, yeah the number is right.’ ‘What?’ ‘You think that your neighbour has killed his wife.’ ‘Was she nosy?’ ‘Yes, then I think that it’s good that she is dead.’ ‘And any way if you think that it’s true then you should call the police not me!’ ‘What?’ ‘You are afraid of police, it’s not my headache.’
I knew these kinds of people. At the beginning of my career I used to get these calls pretty often. Now this Mr Langdon here claimed that he himself saw his neighbour burying his wife in the lawn. These people like to give wrong information to press reporters to get their fifteen minutes of fame and supposedly if he did have any problem then he should go to the police, not me. Fear of police was not a valid reason.
When Denny returned, I told him all about this story, all the while laughing about the weirdo Mr Langdon. Denny was a youth of twenty, he could be called handsome with his light brown eyes and black hair. He was rubbing his eyes wearily, but suddenly he stooped and looked at me. “Maybe that man is not a lunatic after all. Maybe he is telling the truth. We should check it, it’s our job.” He said.
“Come on Denny. What has gotten into you? That man was sounding so elusive and any way if you want to waste your time and energies, go by yourself. I’m not interested.” I replied curtly.
Denny said nothing, just nodded, deep in thought. After that, we went back to the channel office, handed in the clipping and returned.
Next morning, as I turned on the TV, I was flabbergasted to see Denny on the TV. He was standing in front of a house with a ruined lawn and was talking about a madman who killed his wife and buried her in the lawn. So it was true. How could I let this story slip through my hands? It was my golden chance that I gave so willingly to Denny. With my head spinning, I fell on the sofa.
The next day when I met Denny, he was no more my assistant. He was promoted for his efficient work and he was allocated a van with a personal assistant. And my friends, this is the story of the man who let the golden fish go.
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