around 9pm
By Jimmy Olsen, investigative journalist.
Ok, I needed something jazzy, with a little bit of pizazz for my new article in the daily planet. It's not like the good old days where we could just print a story about any old crap, since everyone used to read our newspaper - nowadays it's hard in the world of investigative journalism, but sex drugs and rock and roll sells. So I looked to the sexiest, dingiest and rocking-est band for story inspiration - and that band was trees without knees. My investigative journalist senses were tingling.
It was dark by the time I got to studio 7 on that fateful night. It was the kind of night that got me into investigative journalism in the first place - the wind was blowing and there was a hush in the air, not of expectancy or any atmospheric kind of hush, but the distinctive hush of an empty room while the band sets up. Later on, the music started. It was loud, raw, and pumped up on the kind of energy that can only be produced by geniuses in the art of music. Like devo. The crowd (who had mostly shuffled in late) could sense the talent behind the music and as one turned their heads towards the stage, but to no avail. This was only megadeth playing on the speakers before the band.
The band turned up out of nowhere some time later, and the show went fine. I particularly liked the short song about some man named "chip", but as only a humble investigative journalist, I couldn't grasp the multi-layered humour behind the lyrics.
This has been Jimmy Olsen. Investigative Journalist. Cue music.