Comedy
In the control room a young man in a white lab coat flicked his eyes across a bevy of monitors, sweat pouring from his brow. His superior was crouched over him studying the same images. Suddenly the young man's eyes snapped wide and he shouted into his headset. “The readings, they’re off the chart! it’s a code yello— no! It's a code red news! Code red news!” A second after the announcement was made the klaxons throughout the building cried out in echo like a wounded animal at the bottom of a well, vrrt! vrrt! vrrt! vrrt! With each burst of sound came fresh flashes of hell as the red signal lights mounted on the walls of the complex winked crimson. The entire staff of the WTFD organization was in frantic motion: ensigns and marshalls, captains and cadets, bolted through and across corridors and briefing rooms as if hell were on their heels and perhaps this time, it was. During the commotion a man stood in the quiet of the hospital wing. He was on the verge of tears. Though it may have been chaos everywhere else, that was out there. Out there where the hell-lights, the alarms and the shouts of orders by red faced men and women meant something to somebody, but in here —none of that mattered not to him. So he stood. He stood and watched a hot woman with pink hair sleep soundly in one of the hospital beds in front of him. Bandages covered both her arms, the crown of her head and her left eye. She was attached to an IV that dripped at a rate as steady and strong as the beeps from the ECG machine nearby. “Jack…” Said a voice suddenly behind the man. “If you won’t handle the news...Cait will.” Still watching Cait, the hot woman with pink hair, as she rested bruised and battered, the tears Jack held were left to fall and his hands curled into fists. “You son of a bitch…” He said through clenched teeth. “It’s a code red Jack..” warned the voice. “YOU SON OF A BITCH” screamed Jack and then there was silence. Just the beeping of the machines and the muted cries of danger outside. “Will you do it?” returned the voice, patient and as cold as a clear harvest. Jack hated that voice, all his life he had hated it so very deeply. And taking in a deep shuddering breath he wiped his tears and snot with the back of his hand. “Yeah...” he said in a hoarse whisper and then turned to face the owner of that wretched voice, his own fists trembling with rage. “I’ll do the goddamn freaking news.” Topics discussed on today's episode: GooGoo vs Teigan, Dots Discourse, A Cheeto in the Whitehouse, and JackAss: America