Ep.99 – Knightly News - Making It In TV Can Be MURDER

Episode Notes
A hungry young news woman finds herself in the midst of a bloody massacre in the middle of a whimsical fantasy faire!
Knightly News by David O'Hanlon
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Music by Ray Mattis http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
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Transcript:
Jennifer Lake paced the chevroned carpet and rolled her eyes. She checked the watch dangling from her wrist. Thom Braddock texted her to get to his office immediately, yet she’d been waiting thirty-three minutes. Channel 7 News occupied a meager, three-story building. You could get anywhere in the building faster than you could microwave a Hot Pocket and Thom damn well knew it. Jennifer stormed to the receptionist desk and picked up the phone.
“Hey!” the secretary whined. “You can’t do that.”
“Push the damn button. I’m tired of waiting.” Jennifer put the receiver to her ear and snapped her fingers. “Today!”
“Someone’s got their vibrator turned up too high.” The receptionist leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, pressing her ample breasts to the limits of her blouse. “We both know I didn’t get this job because I’m good at it… just like you. Unlike you, Thom’s not pissed at me. So, sit your bony ass down and wait, princess.”
It was true. Thom hired Teagan out of Rowdy’s Clam Shack where she danced under the name Wet Dreamz. Teagan held her hand out with a venomous smile. Jennifer dropped the receiver an inch short and returned to pacing. She took out her cell and checked her texts, hoping someone had sent her a viable lead.
They hadn’t.
Since the Mercers went on their murderous rampage and killed all those babysitters, Jennifer hadn’t covered anything more exciting than a drive-by. It was as if all the psychos were taking a vacation. The Babysitter Slasher was huge for Channel 7—but her carriage to stardom was turning back into a pumpkin. Viewers were calling for their favorite weathergirl to return to her duties and Thom might grant their wish if she didn’t come up with another winner. The intercom beeped. Jennifer turned and found Teagan looking back at her with a smirk while the intercom called for her attention again.
Teagan leaned over and pressed the button, answering in a breathy voice, “Yes, Mister Braddock?”
“Send Jenny in,” he said through the speaker box.
Jennifer stormed to the door and stepped into the office. Thom Braddock sat behind the oversized desk with his cowboy boots resting on top as he leaned back in his chair. Braddock was every woman’s fantasy—rich, sexy, successful, and dangerous. He was perfect… until he spoke.
“Jenny, come grab a seat,” he grumbled.
“It’s Jennifer, Thom.” Jennifer sat down across from him. “Like I’ve been saying for six years.”
“Jen, let’s not pretend like you’re in a position to correct me.” Thom swung his feet to the floor with a thud and straightened up in his seat. “I have a special assignment for you.”
Jennifer’s stomach soured. If Thom was personally handing her an assignment, her time was up. She needed that big story now!
“Well, Thom, I’m actually working on some leads.”
“You are, are you?” Thom rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “Run it down for me. What’s got your eye?”
“I’m working the follow-up piece on that robbery-homicide from Tuesday.”
“It’s Friday. Who gives a shit about some guy that died on Tuesday?” Thom waved his hand. “Next.”
“There’s my exposé on the housing conditions in Diamond Glen.”
“Advocacy reporting is for bleeding hearts.” Thom shrugged. “You don’t have one, bleeding or otherwise. Give it to Roger.”
“Roger will intentionally overlook gang violence in the Glen.” Jennifer smiled. “I do the piece now, set the scene, introduce the victims. When it boils over, we’re set. It’s good storytelling, Thom.”
“Without an inciting incident, it’s shit. Next.”
“I… well, I have some new leads in the,” Jennifer paused. She knew better than to say it. She sighed. “I have new information into the Mercer Sex Cult.”
Thom pointed at her and clicked his tongue. “And there it is.”
“The FBI is still digging up bodies on their property! Three prominent members of the community were arrested for their involvement and—”
“And you decided to name drop the state attorney general and a former Vice President,” Thom added.
“They were both identified on the tapes,” Jennifer protested.
“The sex tapes, Jen. You implied their involvement in the other tapes.”
“I said—”
“Stop.” Thom held up a hand. “The Mercer train has reached its station. It’s time for you to get off and do some reporting. You’re covering Fantasy Faire.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” Jennifer stood up, stomping her heel. “That’s amateur hour.”
Thom lifted the plaque from his desk and read it thoughtfully.
“This is my desk.” He slammed the plaque like a gavel. “Which means you will sit your ass down and listen to the terms of your continued employment. You were voted Arkansas’ favorite weatherperson five years in a row. Not because you’re somehow better at it, but because you’re hot. This may not be very woke of me, but there’s going to come a time all that goes away and you’re going to want to hide your muffin top behind an anchor desk. For that to happen, you need to learn how to do more than just exploit horrendous murders.”
Jennifer slumped back into the chair.
“Good, you’re listening.” Thom leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “You’re covering the faire, and you’re taking Teagan along.”
“For what? Is there a chance we’ll need to dislodge a golf ball from a garden hose?”
“Teagan’s wanted to do more for a long time. I’ve been letting her do man-on-the-street stuff for our online platforms and people love her. The two of you will be able to cover more ground. You’ll expand your resume and she’ll get valuable experience.”
Jennifer started to argue, then hung her head. “When do we leave?”
Jennifer sputtered her pink lips and pointed at the group of faux-fur wearing drunks sloshing their mead in plastic horns while they sang around a fire.
“Vern, get a shot of the nerds singing sea shanties,” she said.
Her cameraman, dressed in a kilt for the occasion, went to the bonfire and broke into song along with them. Jennifer threw her hands into the air. Fantasy Faire was a renaissance faire for the roleplaying crowd. Three days of LARPing, table-topping, medieval games, cosplaying, and nightly fireworks displays. Tents for gamers, sales booths, and fortune tellers lined the designated walkways while carts rolled around providing booze and bottled water. Crowds cheered from historically inaccurate bleachers borrowed from the high school as a jousting tournament commenced.
Jennifer had covered the opening round while Teagan collected sound bites from the fans. She hated to admit it, but the receptionist was doing a good job. She jumped as a hand closed on her shoulder. Jennifer spun and snorted with laughter. The portly young man wore a fake tiger skin across his torso and carried a foam club on his shoulder.
“I am Bodim Gorefist and I have come to free you from the bonds of your brassiere,” he said with a hiccup.
“That’s sweet, Bodim.” Jennifer fanned away his ale-scented words. “But why don’t you go roll your dice somewhere else before I free your teeth from your mouth?”
“Spear-tease.” Bodim waved her off and staggered away.
Jennifer groaned. The whole assignment was a punishment. Everyone was mingling for the time being. There wasn’t anything left for Jennifer until the bard karaoke contest kicked off. She started down the path looking for someone worth interviewing. Three women in movie-grade witch costumes caught her eye. They tried dragging a child away from its parents to playful giggles. Jennifer stopped at a wagon. A young woman in prosthetic elf ears sat outside casting rune stones and giving fake fortunes to a gathered crowd.
“Beware,” she hissed. “A dark shadow looms like the barn owl flitting over prey. The Stygian Knight returns from his slumber in the bowels in Erebus. Only the claiming of a new bride will entomb him for another hundred winters.”
“Fucking geeks,” Jennifer whispered and continued on.
She scanned the crowds when she heard a roar of male cheers. Jennifer pushed between a man and his cow to see what was going on. Her shoulders sagged.
Two women wrestled in a pit of mud and one was topless. Teagan sat on the fence that surrounded the pit, filming the event with one hand and swinging the lost garment over her head with an excited squeal. The bare-chested wrestler was a towering mass of tightly wound muscle. The Amazonian flipped her opponent over her shoulder and seized a handful of her hair, pressing her face into the mud until the smaller woman conceded. The redheaded victor stood every bit of six-foot and pumped a fist into the air. The crowd cheered again. She approached Teagan who offered her the skimpy covering she’d lost in battle.
“Hold on to that for now,” the Amazon said. “You can return it to my tent later.”
Teagan grabbed her mud-streaked hair and pulled the woman’s face down for a kiss. The crowd exploded in cat-calls and wolf howls. Jennifer watched them exploring each other’s dental work and started mentally updating her resume. The secretary was going to have Jennifer’s job by Monday morning.
Bodim leaned on a tree and rested his club against the trunk. He tugged his loincloth to the side freeing his manhood to the evening chill.
“No retreating, my mighty stallion,” he told his shriveled member. “We must dispatch much ale to continue our conquest of buxom harlots.”
Bodim urinated noisily against the knotted roots of the tree w