If you tune into WIDK morning news at 6 am each morning in Sunnyville, Nebraska you'll see Rose. Stumbling through a report about a local wiener dog race, her blond bob and splotchy, earnest eye makeup a fixture on the local news scene. When Rose was studing journalism in college, she quietly assumed she'd rise in the ranks until she would eventually be anchoring the Today Show, quipping adorably back and forth with Al Roker. But here she sits, six years after her appointment witih WIDK reporting on the milk prices, beauty pageants, the occasional car theft, Alderman election scandals and downtown green space cleanup efforts. This stupid little town doesn't deserve her. She's meant for greatness and she despises their perky greetings on the streets. The handshakes in the three restaurants downtown. She doubts any of them even know where Wall Street is, those hicks. What Rose really wants is a story she can sink her teeth into. Bribery! Murder! Insider trading! These are subjects worthy of the talent that Rose knows lies deep, deep, deep, deep within her. And she is willing the universe to send them her way because that's her only ticket out of this hellhole. But while she waits, she will inform her viewership about Barney, the 4 year old Dachsund who runs at the speed of a child's kickball pitch, and wears a tiny cowboy hat for public appearances. All with a strange, half-smile on her face and hatred in her heart.
As Courtney was handed the rule pamphlet, she swore she saw the Da Vinci code. Symbols swirled around, English words became foreign and strange. She somehow now knows how to set up a VCR after reading them, but still does not quite understand how to win atMahjong.
Last week she ordered each of them one of those gadgets that shatters your car window in case of a full water immersion. She also ordered a wind up radio. You know, in case the power grid goes down. She changed the air filters in the house last month, and commented that Olive Garden is a heck of a deal if you get a family sized pan with a five dollar take-home add-on. She’s been cracking open a Bud heavy after yoga class lately, and finally decided to try out a MyPillow.
But here she sits, six years after her appointment with WIDK reporting on milk prices, beauty pageants, the occasional car theft, Alderman election scandals, and downtown green space clean up efforts. This stupid little town doesn’t deserve her. She’s meant for greatness, and she despises their perky greetings on the streets....
