Is P.F. Jones?

I'm Not Too Drunk
to Write Up This

the departed Jefferies-
yeah, big fucking surprise
by Charles Figgler
Post Cleveland Reporter
November 18, 2009

Two people on the east side of Cleveland are fucking dead.
It happened around 11 p.m. Tuesday night, about an hour before we go to press.
Rita the copy-editor says to me, she says "you can't write that your drunk."
That's what happens when you call me at Flannery's.
But I am a professional, and a professional knows how to work under any condition.
After all, you have report the news when it happens.
So you don't have to be so negative, Rita.
Anywho- police responded to a domestic disturbance on East 112th St., only to find they were too late.
Its sad.
Like, really really sad.
Neighbor Jenna Wilkenson, a first-rate busy body, said they were arguing over an affair Mr. Jefferies disputed having.
Oh- their names were Rhonda and Woodward Jefferies.
They were married 6 years and Woody shot her then himself.
That's why I don't keep a gun in the house. When Cynthia starts bitching, I could easily see blowing her away.
Fuck off, Rita- it's almost done.
Rita's bitching about going home.
Go home. See if I care.
Quit being such a dick.
I can give this to the page designers.
Anyway, I just want to say- I believe you Woody.
I hate getting accused of something I didn't do.
Women always do that. I think its their insecurities.
And Woody couldn't just let her leave, especially when she was wrong.
I get it.
So, to sum up- Woody and Rhonda are dead, Cynthia's a pain in the ass and Rita's a total dick.
Made deadline.


the pub where I had six Irish Car Bombs before I got called back into work
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