Scooped

Just because you’re the first runner off the block when the starting gun sounds, it doesn’t mean someone didn’t jump to a head start

…continued from yesterday

POLLY AND GAIL of MFMFM — a podcast discussing the best My Favorite Murder episodes ever, with their special take on the coverage, and on Karen and Georgia’s special wit, and with updates, however dubious, on the cases covered — stood at the counter waiting for the coffee to brew. Gail checked her Twitter feed, which she hadn’t had the chance to do that morning because her stupid husband Ralph had spent the morning arguing over a tiny seven hundred dollar purchase from Neiman Marcus the day after she spent a thousand dollars on three divine outfits.

“What is it about men that they can’t understand the importance of quality accessories?”

The coffeemaker beeped, and Polly pulled the pot from the burner. “Went over your credit limit again?”

Gail grabbed her mug and waited for Polly to finish pouring. “I don’t see the problem. We just pay an extra one percent in interest. Whats a tiny one percent?”

Polly left her mug on the counter and checked her Twitter feed. “Holy shit.” Gail shifted behind Polly to glance over her shoulder. Polly enlarged the screen so Gail could read. “Karen and Georgia are in prison. In Texas. For murder.”

Gail checked her Twitter feed, which she hadn’t had the chance to do that morning because her stupid husband Ralph had spent the morning arguing over a tiny seven hundred dollar purchase from Neiman Marcus the day after she spent a thousand dollars on three divine outfits.

Gail reached over Polly’s shoulder and traced the text with the tip of her nail. “Not prison. Jail. And it’s Texas. They give the death sentence for jaywalking if you’re not a white male.” She stepped away to fill her cup. “You know what this means?”

Polly bounced on the balls of her feet like a four-year-old begging for a pony. “We get to cover a murder Karen and Georgia haven’t done. We scoop them for once.”

They dashed about the tiny studio, Polly opening her laptop to Google the case details and Gail to set up the sound equipment. Polly dashed a few handwritten notes on her printouts and made a last-minute check of her social media feeds for any updates. “Mother fucking mother fucker.”*

Gail muted the microphone. “What now?”

“Margie and Marsha at MFMFMFM beat us to the podcast.”

*For the reader’s benefit: Mother fucking mother fucker is not the MFMF in the podcast title.

The characters in this story are fictional and not to be confused with real persons named Karen and Georgia, alive or dead.