So I'm waiting for my 3:30 bus to NYC, and I'm bored. So here's a story I started today in Writing 102 with a prompt from my teacher. Tell me if it's any good:
"So we decided to run for it, which worked until we reached the corner only to find-" the voice from the television was cut off. That channel was boring I decided and there's nothing worse than boring television on another monotonous Friday night alone. Clicking through the channels while sitting in my dilapidated La-Z-Boy in my ratbox apartment got me to thinking about how crappy my life has become.
I'm working part time at National Package Service unloading trucks in the god forsaken midday heat of July. At night I usually do the graveyard security shift at office buildings inhabited by the tech stock crowd who leave at five, well before I show up to watch the empty building. On my Friday nights, the only free time I have all week, I end up eating microwaved macaroni and cheese and pass out on the couch after finishing a bottle of my girly ass peppermint schnapp's.
But it didn't used to be like this, oh no not like this at all. I used to have a nice house with a dishwasher. You see now I have to wash my dishes in the bathtub, the bathtub ridden with cockroaches swimming on their backs. I had a car, not some disgustingly overpriced sports car or one of those natural resource sucking SUV's but a nice economical import sedan. I used to have nice things. I had tables instead of milk crates. I ate brand name cereal instead of the bottom shelf bag filth I eat now. Half the time I have to eat it with water instead of milk on account of my busted up refrigerator. That was a good life, yes it was. Everything was fine until two years ago.
"Wrecked em, damn near killed em," Bob laughed as he ate his ham salad sandwich in the break room of the discount grocery store I managed. I hated working here, I only did it so I could pay my house payments and hold on to my car. I looked at the clock, 7:30, time to get back to managing this discount grocery store filled with discount people. These people, both customers and employees, for the most part are the bottom rungs of the earth. Old biddies queued up for almost an hour waiting to save 50 cents on some random special they would never buy unless it was on sale. "OOOOOOH! Capered Tuna! Only 35 cents!" I had heard them shout as I walk past to make some poor teenager go clean up some accident somewhere in the store. A lot of the times it's either shit or piss, oh if the health department only knew the half of it. I've see old ladies stop dead in the middle of aisles, drop trow, and just let loose with a steamer.
One more thing a lot of people have these Monroe and Madonna piercings, but where are the LEMMY piercings. I think the Lemmy would be a good look, maybe I'll go get a Lemmy piercing and be the coolest kid around.
"So we decided to run for it, which worked until we reached the corner only to find-" the voice from the television was cut off. That channel was boring I decided and there's nothing worse than boring television on another monotonous Friday night alone. Clicking through the channels while sitting in my dilapidated La-Z-Boy in my ratbox apartment got me to thinking about how crappy my life has become.
I'm working part time at National Package Service unloading trucks in the god forsaken midday heat of July. At night I usually do the graveyard security shift at office buildings inhabited by the tech stock crowd who leave at five, well before I show up to watch the empty building. On my Friday nights, the only free time I have all week, I end up eating microwaved macaroni and cheese and pass out on the couch after finishing a bottle of my girly ass peppermint schnapp's.
But it didn't used to be like this, oh no not like this at all. I used to have a nice house with a dishwasher. You see now I have to wash my dishes in the bathtub, the bathtub ridden with cockroaches swimming on their backs. I had a car, not some disgustingly overpriced sports car or one of those natural resource sucking SUV's but a nice economical import sedan. I used to have nice things. I had tables instead of milk crates. I ate brand name cereal instead of the bottom shelf bag filth I eat now. Half the time I have to eat it with water instead of milk on account of my busted up refrigerator. That was a good life, yes it was. Everything was fine until two years ago.
"Wrecked em, damn near killed em," Bob laughed as he ate his ham salad sandwich in the break room of the discount grocery store I managed. I hated working here, I only did it so I could pay my house payments and hold on to my car. I looked at the clock, 7:30, time to get back to managing this discount grocery store filled with discount people. These people, both customers and employees, for the most part are the bottom rungs of the earth. Old biddies queued up for almost an hour waiting to save 50 cents on some random special they would never buy unless it was on sale. "OOOOOOH! Capered Tuna! Only 35 cents!" I had heard them shout as I walk past to make some poor teenager go clean up some accident somewhere in the store. A lot of the times it's either shit or piss, oh if the health department only knew the half of it. I've see old ladies stop dead in the middle of aisles, drop trow, and just let loose with a steamer.
One more thing a lot of people have these Monroe and Madonna piercings, but where are the LEMMY piercings. I think the Lemmy would be a good look, maybe I'll go get a Lemmy piercing and be the coolest kid around.