In the capital city this week, 9 tons of manure was shoveled off the streets. Even those with graphite coated iron noses succumbed to the awful smell, running for the inside. Almost all reporters refused to cover the story, fearing toxic shock, blindness, and even death. Only two brave gonzo soldiers went down to the streets and sludged through the shud, the shit and mud mixture well known on the farms and dairies and in the tent cities of America. Me and a fast talking dude named Geraldo, who said he was really famous, got the real story of the shit show.
The fumes hit us like a head-on wreck, initial aghasts turned into stubborn determinations and we began to breathe normally through our nostrils, getting our entitled oxygen. Next thing we knew, we're interviewing a gas-masked Speaker Of The House and she goes on and on about peaches--peaches this, peaches that, she sounded like Mrs. Vader under the heavy looking air filters and mist covered goggles. Perhaps it's what the cows ate that caused the disaster, some kind of peaches anomaly, an intentional prank. Geraldo was indignant, he had questions, he waved around his huge microphone, he spit when he talked, he yelled about peachable fences, he was crazed.
Finally, the water trucks came with soap and high powered hoses, and after 4 hours of constant work the streets were opened up to the public. Geraldo and I were exhausted, we had reported back with abandon the entire time, we talked to shovelers, sprayers, spinners, and spastics. They all blamed each other for the peach incident, of course, but we kept pressing the issue. We got answers and we got answers right then and there, our journalistic creed was on the line. Running with the footage as is, no edits in the production process folks, no bullshit.