dain

AN UNLIKELY DISCOVERY
By Dain

�You�re fired!� My pudgy, red-faced boss shouted.
�But I didn�t do anything!� I protested.
�You insulted the mayor, you idiot!� Mr. Gunther, my boss, screamed at me again.
Gunther was a fat, gray haired man who ran the local newspaper. He had a temper like a thousand sticks of dynamite with an inch long fuse, which made him get on your case a whole lot easier than other people and since I�m known to talk back he hated me extremely.
�I�m a reporter, I�m supposed to express the opinions of the readers and myself.� Gunther was starting to get on my nerves.
�No, you�re supposed to express the opinions of our sponsors, which happen to be Spencer and his party, or did you forget that?� Spencer, Allen Spencer, the high and mighty Mayor of Los Angeles.
Spencer is a young, money grubbing politician who�s father was once the president of the USA, which adds to his cockiness. Although I admit he can handle himself when he gets in trouble with the press and in a strange sense I used to admire him for that quality. But I�m sure I could make him slip in an interview and I think Gunther knew this as well ,which is why he never assigned me a Spencer interview.
Gunther released a snide smile which sickened me. To add to my anger he reached into his desk and pulled out a cigar. He lit it and puffed away until he saw my anger brewing inside me and then he spoke, �What? What do you want? You�re fired remember? That means... GET OUT!�
I shook my head as he blew a large cloud of smoke into my face, �You know something? I�m glad I�m leaving because I�m sick of working for a fat, almost dead, annoying--�
Knock, knock.
I was interrupted by a loud knock on Gunther�s frosted glass door. Without being invited a young man poked his head in. It was Eric Williams, a co-worker and close friend of mine. He had an urgent look on his freckled face, �Uh, hey, Jarod (that�s me) there�s a phone call for you, they say it�s important.�
I let out a small smirk, �Right, I�ll be there in a sec.�
I walked out the door Eric was holding open and as I left I turned and gave a sarcastic little wave just to see Gunther�s face turn a darker shade of red. As I walked through the rows of cubicles Eric turned his head and smiled, �You really know how to get to him, don�t you?�
I chuckled, �I sure do...uh, about that phone call--�
Eric continued to smile, �I made it up just to you outta there before you got yourself in bigger trouble than you�re already in.
�Well, thanks... it�s been great workin� with you but I guess I�ve got to pack up my desk and move on to bigger and and-not-so better things.� I said, trying to use my humour to get over my anger.
�Oh, about your desk, Becca�s already started to take care of that.� Eric�s smile faded.
Rebecca or Becca was another close friend of mine who worked at a local television station. We were once engaged to get married but we decided to call off the wedding and just remain friends, although at times I wish we had gone through with the wedding. She was a very beautiful young woman in her mid-twenties with short blond hair.
When Eric and I reached my cubical half of my stuff was packed in a cardboard box. Rebecca continued to load the box up until I walked over and poked her ribs making her jump and yelp.
�God, Jarod you�re gonna give me a heart attack if you keep doing that. I heard your conversation so I started to pack your stuff.�
�You�re a doll.� Just seeing Becca allowed me to get over my anger towards Gunther�s butt-kissing attitude.
�I know,� She giggled, �You know, I read your article and I totally understand what your saying.�
�I do too, man.� Eric put his hand on my shoulder.
�Thanks, I appreciate it.� I totally forgot my anger now.
�Any time.� Rebecca said pushing her blond hair to the side of her head.
It took about fifteen minutes to completely clean out my cubical and after we finished Rebecca offered me a ride home and I gladly accepted. But before I left I had to have a little more fun with Gunther so I left a note for him with every combination of swear words I could think of. After I left my �Happy Note� Becca and I left as quickly as we possibly could.
We left the large building and entered the dirty, smoggy streets of Los Angeles (Ah, home, sweet, home). I followed Becca towards a hover car and got in. On the ride home to my apartment we said nothing to each other except good-bye when we arrived at my apartment. This strange silence ruined my odd good mood. A loud thunder clap echoed through the streets as a storm approached.
�Great,� I mumbled to myself, �Just what I need some nice gloomy rain to cheer me up.�
I entered the building and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. When the elevator dinged I got out and headed for my apartment. I juggled my box of items in one hand as I fished around in my pocket to get my key card. I finally got a hold of it and presented it to the scanner on the door, which buzzed, then opened. I walked in and threw the box on my couch, which landed on the converter for my newly upgraded t.v. My quiet apartment now buzzed with action as a report done by Becca played on the t.v. It was on the bank scandal between China and India.
�Just what we need more problems in the world.� I thought.
Becca continued to go on about how 1 million dollars from India�s federal bank had gone missing and evidence pointed towards China.
Later that night while I was on the internet I stumbled upon a website on Allen Spencer. It said he had got a donation of 500,000 dollars from a mysterious source and as I continued to go through the page it seemed Spencer was continuously receiving donations. This aroused my suspicions. All night I continued to do research on the money which was being donated and I traced it back to none other than India. Allen Spencer had stolen money from India and somehow ended up making it look like China stole it.