It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon in journalism class. Mrs. Russ was delivering a lecture to the newbies about how to write stories and the editors were typing away, working on our first issue.
What was I doing you may ask?
Well, I was enjoying a nice donut and listening to my local NPR station (support your local radio) scouting out for any potential news for our up-to-date newspaper. The narrator of the story was soothing me into a nice slumber (Lakshmi Singh where you at!) when I received a urgent notification from mother nature, one that needed my immediate attention.
After I had returned from my journey, I had settled back into my shlump when I noticed a disturbance. My $45 wireless bluetooth earphones had disappeared from my computer.
Immediately, I checked in the case, but that was missing as well. I soon realized that there was only one person who could solve this mystery, the man who exposed Deep Run for the fraudulent advertising of chicken. That man, was me. Dun Dun Dun!
I looked up to see our SCA senior class secretary and editorial editor Maria, sitting right in front of me. When I pressed her for information on the thief, she only shrugged; however, when I pushed for more information, she responded with “I dunno.”
I hit a dead end. I have never felt so helpless in my entire life. My second pair of the most expensive set of earphones I ever had were gone. That all changed when I received a hint of info from our ad manager, Anselm. The note only said one name: Jenna.
That hint was practically useless because there are two Jennas in journalism, but I decided to go with the most likely burglar, Jenna, our features editor.
I pressed for the answers; I knew she had them. She was the eyes and ears of the journalism class, listening to conversations because she had nothing better to do.
Jenna had good answers, but she was untrustworthy. She attempted to frame Azzah, a well spoken co-co-editor in chief. But pushing her for an answer led me on a much darker path.
“I don’t care, frame me for anything you want!” Azzah replied with an extremely aggravated tone, which is no way to talk to subordinates. Not cool Azzah, not cool.
Seeing as Catherine, the other other editor-in-chief, was never in the mood to talk, I took it to the other other other, our third editor-in-chief, Jessica.
She said through a perfectly constructed poker face,”What headphones?”
I knew that she was lying to me. I got up to press for more information when I felt my earphones fall out of my shirt pocket.
Relieved, I sat back down and turned back on my WCVE Richmond, the height of public radio. Maybe I shouldn’t have blamed other people before making sure it wasn’t my fault. Maybe I should make sure I don’t accuse innocent people who don’t deserve to be antagonized. Doesn’t matter though; at least I found my $45 wireless bluetooth earphones.