Ah Los Angles. The of city life, the city of angles, the city of that never sleeps, no wait that that's a different city. My name's I. M. Fletcher, my friends call me Fletch. I am an investigative news paper reporter or at least I was. I still work at for the Times, but due to the cut backs in that last few years I had to double a sports reporter. It's not too bad, I can see all my sport games for free and the interviews aren't anything to sneeze at either.

In the area dubbed the Hollywood Hills were the rich and famous live including sports stars nestle a large modern house. Angular in size in its Art Deco like architect, the front door opens and two men step out.

"Thank you Mr. Kobe for your time," said Fletch as shook the tall Laker guard.

"No problem Fletch," Kobe smiled at him, "I'll see you at the game tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Fetch said as he got in to his blue 1998 Dodge Neon.

He drove back to the newspaper he worked at. His life was good. He finally paid off his ex-wife, got a new car, and he's getting the respect he should have. As he drove into his parking space, he got his old trusty tape recorder from the passenger seat and got out.

The newspaper business was slow. As Fletch entered the office, he only saw four people at their desks typing away on their computers. He walked towards his cubical when a tall busty blond woman walked passed him.

Fletch turned to the woman and said to her, "Donna, what no 'hi, how you doing', 'that was great night Fletch'?"

Donna stopped and turned to her and replied, "Oh, Fletch. Remember what I said to you about not talking to each other at the office?"

"This not an office it's a newsroom."

She rolled her eyes at his comment and continued on to the elevator.

"I'll talk to you at dinner then?" Fletch said as Donna entered the elevator and disappeared when the doors closed.

Fletch shrugged her off and placed he tape recorder on his desk. He looked, and saw his cubicle could need a little cleaning. It was cluttered with papers, forms, books, and disks. He was about to sit down when a familiar voice called to him.

"Ah Fletch, good you're back." Fetch turned his head to see it was his editor Frank. "I need you in my office, now."

Fletch sighed not knowing what he wanted, but whatever it was it was not good. He stood back up and leisurely walked to the back of the opened space room to an office.

The bald headed editor sat down in his messy desk, adjusted his round glasses as Fletch walked into the small room.

"I've been trying to call you on your cell phone for two hours. Where were you?" Frank asked.

"I have a cell phone?" Fletch replied.

"Yes, we gave you one two years ago. Don't tell me you lost it."

"Na it's not lost, I just don't bother with it."

"Cute, I'm trying to modernize this newspaper to produce efficiently and you leave your cell phone at home."

"I didn't leave it at home; it's in my back pocket."

"Then why didn't you answer it?" Frank then realized, "You didn't turn it turned on did you?"

"Come on Frank, you know I'm not into this fang dang technology. Besides I work more efficiently without one."

"How's that?"

"I don't get interrupted by your calls."

Frank then opened his drawer took out a sleek rectangular device and handed to Fletch. Fletch looked at it quizzically.

"You got a new hearing aid?" Fletch quipped.

"That is the new company's smart phone. It's also expensive so don't lose it."

"You told me I've already got cell phone. What do I want with another one?"

"Well, give me your old one. I'm upgrading you to Fletch 2.0."

Fletch, not knowing what he meant by it, dug into his back pocket, took out his old cell phone and handed back to Frank.

"Come on Frank, you know I don't know how use one of these things." He looked at it turned it over a couple of times and said, "I don't even see the dial buttons."

"Push the button on top." He then handed Fletch the quarter inch small manual it came with it.

When Fletch did, the screen on the smart phone lit up with a menu of options. Phone, E-Mail, notepad, recorder, video, it was all on there. Fletch frowned.

"Ok Frank, what the catch? Christmas was three months ago, so what's with the gifts?"

"I need you go to Paris tonight."

"Tonight? Can't. I'm going to the Laker game tonight, not unless their playing in Texas. I don't think there a basketball team in Paris, Texas is there?"

"Not Paris, Texas; Paris, France. The Louvre is unveiling a new lost painting there by Raphael and I need you there to cover it."

"The Turtle?"

"The Painter."

"Hold on, I'm not in the art and entertainment department Frank, That's Joan's job."

"Well, she's on sick leave for a few days and I need someone to cover it. It's suppose to be big news in the art world. Raphael's lost painting was discovered in a warehouse in Germany. It's estimated to be worth five million dollars."

"What about the game tonight? I can't miss that, it's my job to report every action."

"Don't worry about it I'll cover you ya."

"You? You don't even like basketball. What do you know about the sport?"

"I know enough that it needs to be covered, just like I need you to cover Raphael's painting. I got you booked on the eight o'clock flight to Paris tonight, with a connecting flight in New York."

"Oh geeze Frank, what the hell happened to this place? Everybody is covering everybody, I feel like I'm the point guard in a Laker game."

"Times are changing Fletch. People are getting their news for free on web; that means cutbacks on our side. Everybody's going digital these days and there is nothing I can do about it."

"I don't like even like France. The people there are stuck up snobs. Why don't you sent Donna? I hear that's her birth home."

"Sorry Fletch, Donna covering Dave's Restaurant reviews. But don't worry about it you'll have a great time. I hear the woman over there love American reporters."


"That's what I heard."

"Then why don't you go?"

He then got up to show Fletch out and replied, "I hate flying Fletch, and you know that."

Fletch sighed, stood and said, "You really hate me don't you Frank?"

"No, I don't really hate you. Hey, I gave you new phone that has everything a reporter needs."

Fletch looked at the device one more time cocked and eye brow and wondered, "Does it show what crock this is?" He then pushed a button and picture of a monkey pop up. He then showed it to Frank. "Oh here it is. This is ridiculous Frank. I don't know anything about art."

"You know what's ridiculous Fletch? I can find another reporter from the millions of unemployed in L.A. and yet I keep you. Besides you don't need to know art. All you have to do is to show up and report whatever the curator has to say. It's so simple, a monkey can do it."

"So where can we find this monkey who likes art and can fly?" Fetch asked as he showed the picture again.

"Fletch. This is all expense paid trip. I'm sending you there 'cause you need it. I seen how you behave lately Fletch, you're stuck in a rut. So I felt you needed a little get-a-way to break that. So go, have a good time."

Fletch sighed in defeat, "All right I'll go, but I won't enjoy myself. And don't except any gifts when I return."

"I'll put that down in my memoirs," Frank replied as Fletch left his office.