Muddy Waters
The big man was not photogenic. He was a conglomeration of sunburnt scalp, greasy red facial hair, and sallow, liver spotted skin. Mona watched the tape, listening to her questions and his grunted replies with a mixture of disgust and awe. After the interview he had grabbed her ass and asked her out for a drink.
As ugly as it was, she would use the footage, it lent this piece the rustic roughness it deserved. It was only a five-minute story, and not even a lead, but she meant to upstage KLUTV’s star reporter, the b***h Susan Potter, every chance she got until the producers either promoted her for her efforts, or she got a better offer.
Her crude interviewee, a saw shop owner named Harris Baugh, stood beside the seldom traveled highway outside the little town of Pierce,
