Morning folks! I’m relieved I am back here today because I know that my co-worker (and femme fatale) Annabel Lake got to you in September. How do I know? Because she has not stopped boasting about her new friends and precisely how many messages are being posted daily on her Facebook page.
I’m not going to waste my time trying to explain Annabel’s M.O. because she’s probably already told you how hard she’s tried to be my friend. Don’t believe her. It’s always been a case of “their word against mine” – even when I was a kid and my nickname “Little Vicky Light Fingers” meant the cops presumed I was guilty even if I was occasionally innocent. Of course, that life is all behind me now …
Annabel is convinced that she knows whom my parents are and can prove it. True, there is a huge reward for Dad—aka The Fog, one of the top ten criminals in the entire universe—but it’s not about the money for Annabel. It’s about being the most popular, having men fawn all over her and really—just winning. In the beginning, I really hoped we could have been friends and frankly, I can’t help snatching the front-page scoops. They just happen. Annabel is always after the big story whereas I just do my job. It’s pure fluke that my seemingly inconsequential stories turn out to be just the tip of the iceberg and end up on page one. Take the funeral of eighty-nine year old Eileen Nearne a couple of weeks ago in the nearby town of Torquay. How was I to know that Eileen was really Agent Rose who saved a gazillion Allied airmen in World War II? Perhaps I just have a nose for news?
I’m appealing to all you KC regulars out there—any tips on how to handle jealous rivals?