"Not my job to know that stuff, kid! I see a story, like it, print it! Get the facts next time! You call yourself a journalist? Maybe that crap will fly at the Post but not here!" J.J. waved his hand, as if to shoo Eddie out the door like he was a fly or dog or something as he turned around, shaking his head and stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"Sir, don't you think you-" started Miss Brant.
"We're done here! Go on, scram! All of ya!" He barked back.
Everyone, even Betty, scurried from J.J.'s office. The editor in chief growled as he glared out the window to the city scape again, mumbling something about how hard it was to find good help in this town. He glanced over his shoulder, noticing Eddie was still in his office and barked back over his shoulder.
"What, you hard of hearing too? Go on, outski! Box you're stuff. Door. Parking lot!"