Searching through the newsroom’s photo files, Charlie found a headshot of the Minister of Lands and Forests. He sized it to fit exactly over Pete’s comical face, then had it engraved and set aside while the rest of the edition was being prepared for the press.
As the big iron monster rumbled into action in the back shop, Charlie hovered around uncharacteristically, having the press operator stop and re-start the machine a couple of times.
Eventually, the publisher emerged from the back shop into the newsroom carrying a stack of four folded copies of the latest edition, and a mischievous smile on his face. He placed the papers on the news editor’s desk.
“That’s not Litter Pickin’ Pete!” cried the alarmed editor Harvey Watson, rising from his desk to run into the press room and stop the iron monster.
“Wait, Harvey,” placated Charlie. “The correct picture is running now.”
Looking again at the front-page photo, Harvey said, “That’s the Minister himself on Pete’s body….Not very complimentary. What’s going on, Charlie?”
The publisher explained that he was taking eight free copies of the paper out to Carl’s office, and intended to startle him by having one with the Minister on top of the pile. He would ensure that Carl would have all four “Minister” copies to either show around the office or destroy, as he saw fit.
“I hope Carl brought his sense of humour to work today,” Harvey muttered as his boss carefully but temporarily placed the Minister copies in the bottom of the pile, then carried them out to his car.
As Charlie took the stack into the government office, the receptionist’s eyes lit up. “Is this the issue with our story in it? Can I see the photo with our girl Helen?”
“Er…It’s on an inside page so maybe Carl can show you when he goes through the paper. Can I take these to him now?”
“He’s out for a while, but I will put them in his office. I know he’s very eager to see your coverage of Litter Pickin’ Pete. We all are.”
Groaning inwardly at the timing of his plan crumbling before his eyes, Charlie realized he could not retrieve the four Minister copies without the receptionist wanting an explanation. He must be sure that Carl saw the Minister copies first.
“Um,” replied Charlie, his mind racing to prevent the woman inadvertently spoiling his prank. “They are fresh off the press and the damp ink might dirty your hands and clothing, so you show me his office and I will take them in.”
He placed the stack on Carl’s desk and, in hopes of preventing the staff from peeking before the PR rep returned, again warned about the ink stains. He asked to have Carl call as soon as he had seen the paper, then Charlie returned to The Bugle.
“It looks great,” Carl told Charlie on the phone after looking through the entire paper. “Just like we planned it. Good job.”
Foreboding flooded over Charlie as he heard that. “Have you looked at all the copies I left there? Pick one from the bottom of the stack.”
“Okay,” said Carl, while Charlie silently squirmed on the other end of the line. “Omigod! What’s this, some kind of joke?”
“I’m afraid so, Carl. Look at all the copies. How many have the Minister’s picture?”
“Three, including this one.’
“Then one of them has disappeared, Carl. See if one of the staff took it without realizing it wasn’t meant for distribution. Please call me as soon as you know, and I’m very sorry this happened…,” But Carl had already hung up.
Instead of phoning, around quitting time the government PR rep marched into the publisher’s office. Charlie awaited the blast. Newsroom staff craned their ears to eavesdrop.
“Well, the missing copy is on its way to the Minister by courier thanks to our receptionist who didn’t notice the different photo, and thought she was earning us points with the top man.”
Charlie groaned aloud this time.
“But bless her heart,” Carl continued, “she immediately called Helen, the secretary, and asked her to intercept the package and destroy the paper. Then she got a good copy and sent it by overnight courier to arrive sometime tomorrow.”
Sighing with relief, Charlie again apologized. Equally relieved, Carl replied, “Accepted. I love a good joke, but that was too close for comfort.”
From the newsroom outside the publisher’s door, Harvey Watson called, “I think Carl deserves to be taken out for a beer to settle his nerves!”
“You’re absolutely right. Come on Carl. I’m buying.”
At the tavern, they clinked their glasses in honour of Litter Pickin’ Pete…the real one. Also the receptionist, then secretary Helen, and finally the Minister himself with the hope he would never discover the prank.
