Day 9: Muckrake

Word of the Day:

muckrake

verb

to search for an expose real or alleged corruption, scandal, or the like, especially in politics.

Ooo.  In middle school, my greatest ambition was to start a political newspaper called The Muckraker.  (So glad I crossed that off my career list…)

“We can’t be afraid,” she said valiantly from her position on top of the desk.  “We are reporters!  We have to be willing to muckrake, to stand up and expose the ugly truth for what it is!”

The other girls cheered.

“Mrs. French is a filthy hypocrite!” she continued.  “And I, for one, will not stand for it any longer!  I will not sit idly by and let such corruption infiltrate our sacred educational institute!  Now get out there, girls, and write me a story!”

The next day, on the front page of Mullen High School’s newspaper, the following headline shouted at readers:

SCANDAL: Mrs. French—Known Advocate For Mullen’s Heroic Anti-Tree Nut Policy—Found To Be Hiding Secret Snack Stash Containing Almonds, Pecans, Peanuts, and Walnuts!

Cara Kennaway

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Day 9: Muckrake

  1. *Snort*

    Nice. I feel like there aren’t very many different places to go with this one. But I’ll see what I can come up with.

  2. “You’re asking me to muckrake one of my personal friends, someone who’s offered me help and advice through the years. You’re crazy if you actually think I’d do it.”

    “I would hardly call it muckraking. There’s no brewing scandal here, just a little innocent curiosity. And all I’m asking you to do is mention it around a bit. The people involved will be more likely to talk to you about it than me.”

    “Yes. Because they trust me. Rightfully so. I’m not doing it, end of discussion.”

    “There’s no call to get upset.”

    “Isn’t there?”

    “Is there nothing I could say that would convince you to help me out?”

    “Nothing.”

    “Very well then. But if I were you, I’d ask myself if this woman I was going to such lengths to protect would extend the same consideration to me. And I would think long and hard about it. Good day.”

    Silence, broken only by the sound of footsteps turning and striding back up the corridor. Five seconds.

    Ten seconds.

    Fifteen…

    “Wait.”

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s