Reporter Bob here, burning the midnight oil for that relentless tyrant Editor Sam and getting just another story out before the press closes down for the night and our staff of 4 goes home. Had to change the smoke detector battery too before the old man docked my pay again, he's a stickler for an employee carrying out all the duties prescribed in the agency's employee contract- even though I'd spent a whole 78-hours strapped to a massive peanut bomb and heckled and taunted by illegal immigrants leaping around in ceremonial costume, while their shaman smeared me over with some foul smelling oil. You'd think I'd get a vacation, some workman's comp time off, but NO-O-O, Editor Sam was right on my case to finish writing up my stories on my Aztecian investigation and links to the High Muckedey-Muck.
Well, anyway, since Sir Bill has announced plans to step down as Grand Poo-Pah for the Southern Region and declare our independence, Editor Sam has decided we need not be an underground news agency anymore and renamed ourselves as the South Central Moose Pass News Agency and sole distributor for Old Saddy's doughnuts, road kill fine sauces and coffee bean recipes. Apparently we don't really make all that much money on selling news so the deal with Old Saddy could at least allow me to have a businessman's lunch once a week at the Moose Pass Bar & Grill, ( formally called the Moose Pass Lodge).
Breaking News today: Militia spies working deep inside the High Muckedey-Muck's capital have reported to Militia Intelligence, ( we receive their reports over our wires and that's how we get the news so fast), how the High Muckedey-Muck is using promises to the remaining Grand Poo-Pahs, ( or intimidation), to impose a new security program, which will allow him to review everyone's e-mail traffic, see what sites they are checking out and any game programs we might be playing. The High Muckedey-Muck is also in the process of bailing out several game manufacturers with new funds provided by the Aztecian Better Life through Sacrifice Foundation. Seems that whenever someone is given the high honor of selection for sacrifice to the sun god, with promises of 177 virgins and a never ending supply of little blue pills, his property is then donated to this foundation- which has just been listed on the Empire stock market.
(I've always wondered, that's what the men get for said sacrifice, but what does a woman get?)
Anyway, a News Break came in over the wire while I was typing this and it appears a new rumor is circulating through Empire ranks of how the Aztecians/Skinhead Alliance had developed a new weapon. High tec to be sure, and even able to work with the peanut butter delivery system, this new weapon is described as a fermented grape jelly nerve toxin. (How fiendish!)
Yes, war is in the air and even Steve, my humongous rabbit buddy, feels it too. I've also noticed that Steve seems to be invisible to everyone else. Even Editor Sam doesn't recall ever seeing Steve, but I think he is messing with me. So, I have this idea, which I need to talk over with General John, and Steve too of course, but to send Steve, if he volunteers, into the Empire with plans to either capture this new lethel weapon or destroy it.
From what I've learned from my late night talks with Steve, he...or she, doesn't matter, that he doesn't think to highly of these PETA people. Seems they liked to test on his smaller cousins and lie about it, and he didn't think the chocolate bunnies made at Easter time were all that flattering. He says he knows the Easter bunny and the guy isn't all that friendly, he hates eggs and got into the whole stupid thing so he could burglarize the homes and steal the bright shiny things all the little kids played with. I haven't asked him about Santa, but I'm not sure I want to now. Besides that, Steve eats more doughnuts than the entire moose corps all together and Old Saddy is none too happy with me at the moment, I'm over drawn and Editor Sam thinks I'm making the whole Steve thing up. He just doesn't want to pay me what I'm owed.
All for tonight.