Young Writers Society

I woke up this morning to a blaring siren, I opened my eyes and searched for the sound. When I looked on my night stand, there, red electronic numbers told me it was 7:00 am. This was the normal time for me to wake up.
It was a perfect day.

I climbed out of bed and threw a robe on, nothing special, it just had a picture of snoopy on the left side of the chest. I walked down the hall and started a pot of coffee upon entering the kitchen. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes and a light blue lighter off the top of the table. When I opened the pack, there was plenty of cigarettes inside. I took one, put it between my lips, and fired it up. One more down, eighteen more to go.
It was a perfect day

The coffee pot stopped bubbling and gurgling, it was ready. I grabbed a cup from out of the cupboard, it was plain white, not anything special like my robe. I poured coffee into my boring cup and threw in three spoons of sugar. I can't stand black coffee. The taste is much like the way it looks, dark and ugly. I sat down at the table and turned on the TV to the news. I took a sip of my coffee and a drag of my cigarette.
It was a perfect day

I couldn't help noticing my cigarette and coffee. Nothing out of the ordinary, a Marlboro and a cup of Folgers, yet, the smoke from the tobacco and the steam protruding from the coffee seemed to be pitted in mortal combat. Wispy and winding, they fought over a battle field of pure ambiance. It was evident that the cigarette had already taken the province of aroma and was well fortified.
It was a perfect day

I finished my coffee and put my cigarette out in the puddle sitting at the bottom of my cup. I got up out of the chair and left the cup behind. Don't worry, I'll get it later. I don't do a lot of dish washing merely because I don't use of dishes. I walked back down the hall and opened a door to my right, there's the bathroom. I entered and my eyes immediately found me. Trapped in a 15x30 inch frame. It was there I saw my mother's eyes and lips, my father's ears and nose. Everything else was a compromise of their DNA.
It was a perfect day

I pulled off my robe and my sweat pants. I glanced down at my body. Not exactly Chip 'n' Dales material but I get by. A fair build, appropriate enough fo the beach. A whopping hundred fifty pounds to carry around. I climbed in the shower stall and turned on the water to its hottest. Through the shower I'll find myself adjusting the temperature according to comfort. Then it hit me. Well, not so much as hit me, but what had come always arrived. Welcome or not. All the things I think about every day. My friends, my family, and the things going wrong in my life. My father's deteriorating health, the woman I love is having my child, but we're not together. I'm in credit card debt, and my best friend is out on the streets making his daily bread. Where as I make just enough for rent, but not enough for a crumb. Then I'd play out wild scenarios in my mind that would usually result in someone I care about getting hurt. Often times I see myself doing something completely out of character. If not exploding into a fiery rant, expressing a deep, haunting monologue - much like the villains in your favorite movie. My favorite was when I'd be there to comfort someone or say something very touching. Hasn't happened yet, but think of it this way. If you and I were with someone we know, who's gonna be ready with a five spot when you ask them: "A penny for your thoughts?"
It was a perfect day

I was finished with my shower. I turned off the water and stepped out of the stall. I reached for a towel, dried myself off, wrapped the towel around my waist, and walked down the hall back to my room. My closet had no doors to speak of, so one day I tore them down and put a beaded curtain in their place. I might try to tell the ladies how suave and sophisticated I am. Though the rest of my room would give me away in a heart beat. Hardly a floor to see, cluttered with filth and papers. Even I wouldn't believe my own sack of crap. I reached into the closet and grabbed a white button up long sleeve shirt, a pair of khaki pants, and a 10$ pair of duck shoes. They would've been 5$ but I owed the guy a pack of cigarettes. Here I am. Your Peter Gibbons, your Thomas Anderson, your Dilbert. Ladies and gentlemen, I am Joe White-Collar. The nameless ant sent to work to perform trivial tasks for the queen. In exchange, I'm givin' a meager restitution for my efforts. After which my crumb has to be split into parts. Some for my bills, some for my insurance, child support, and then maybe cigarettes. Sorry habits are hard to break. If you'll excuse me I have to go fire one up. I suddenly found myself on the road in my '89 Ford Taurus. Was I asleep? Or was I visited by the ghost of Tyler Durden?
I am Jack's perfect day

The weather was fair and the gusts were low. Traffic was a million motor march, inching ever slowly towards the light, just to get stopped again by the next light. It was maddening and monotonous. I started to wonder if this will happen when my child is born. Stuck in traffic while the woman I love is in labor. Will I miss it? I began to think: She might die giving birth to this child. She has high blood pressure, that could put her in a lot of danger. I could be left alone in the world with a child. Of which I can barely support, I hardly know what to do with my nephew. There I am, standing at her grave, I know I'll be here again. I will hold my child in my arms and I will be adorned in the customary black. My child will cry and wail as I unconsciously coo and comfort it. Her family will be there, holding each other, crying. One or two will come to me to say: "Good luck" What did I hit? Why is my car in the air? And what is the ground doing floating over my head? I was in an accident. I felt like I was gonna be up there forever, but before I knew it...The eagle had landed.
Houston...it was a perfect day.

I crawled out of the space shuttle and set foot on the strange new planet. My star ship was badly damaged upon entry, this world contained plenty of oxygen and very familiar forms of life. There I was surrounded by people. People had actually gotten out of their cars to see if I was okay. I had to look down to see if I really was. Its okay, no bleeding. The world around me went silent, I couldn't even hear myself breathe. It didn't matter, I knew what they were saying. "Are you okay?" or "Are you hurt?" "Call an ambulance?" "C'mon talk to me buddy" I might have been in shock but I was fine. I surveyed the scene one more time and saw people standing by the road, cars slowing down and someone on their cellphone. I lightly nudged the people out of the way and began walking. Most people would've stayed, they would've contemplated the fact that they could've just died. Not me, I was more concerned with what this was going to do to my insurance rates. Damn, how am I gonna get around, I can't even afford a new car. My father was in an accident a couple years back. I remember every second and every detail of that day. I was with a friend, in my room, at my parents' house. We heard a crash and though it was a truck. We, as any other human being, wanted to see what it was. Its always interesting how a car crash can bring people out of hiding. We thought we'd get a thrill or a chuckle out of the genius who got into the accident. Our moment to create something to talk about had become something much bigger. My world was broken and trapped in a crumpled Oldsmobile. He was on his way to pick up my mother from work. He climbed in his car, started it up, and was hit with a stroke. He has a lot of health problems. Not surprising with how long he's been smoking and drinking. I patted my pocket making sure I had my cigarettes and my lighter on me. I think about him everyday. The only thing that really kept him from a 50 foot drop into traffic was a 94 year old cedar. I waited by his side when he was lying unconscious in that car and again when he was in the hospital bed. All I could do was hum and cry. Humming was a way to take my mind else where then. Hind sight makes me wonder what my friends thought when they saw me break down. I'll be back there, so baby can see mommy, and so I can see my father.
It was a perfect day

I was on the road again, only this time I was on foot. I looked at my watch, it was 9:02 am. I'm gonna be late for work. I'd walk like this all the time. No where to go, nothing to do, I'd walk to think or if something happened to me at the time that made me feel trapped in my own home. I prefer to walk at night, so I can watch the stars. I'd find myself looking for Sagittarius most of all, my star sign. I got into the busier part of the city and saw the hustle and bustle of the busy morning rush around me. The traffic got worse, all because of me, oh well. I bumped into a lot of people on that side walk, they'd lightly shove me back or whisper obscenities at me. I saw a man down on his luck sitting by the dumpster of a corrupt pawn shop. He was heavy set, his skin was muck on white, his beard was as greasy as his hair and his clothes were heavily layered and tattered. How I envied him. I've got so much on my plate and all he has to worry about is making sure his can had just enough for another beer. He never had to spend money on food, he'd live off the concrete land and find something someone else threw away. Then it'd be back to his post, ever vigilant. I reached into my pocket and threw two dollars of quarters into his can. There goes my bus fair, but I knew it was for a good cause. After all, a beer's a beer.
It was a perfect day

I finally got to my office when my boss confronted me, he looked me straight in the eye. Well actually he looked straight up at me, I'm about average height for a young male my age but he looked like he was a few inches too tall to qualify for to be an ewok. Endor would cower in fear, I just put on a mask for him and let him have his fun. His words were transparent and motionless much like my audience at my wonderful car stunt earlier. I knew he was pissed off that I was late, it hadn't been the first time, it won't be the last. I took a seat in my cozy little chair in my blank, empty cell. I swiveled around and turned on the computer screen, I think he was still yelling at me, not really sure. I typed and I typed and I typed and that's how my days goes on. Then I'd go eat, grab a coffee, have a cigarette, occasionally talk to the people around me who seem to consider me one of their own, and then I'd get right back to work.
It was a perfect day.

I had gotten up to grab a coffee and I brought back to 'the hole' so I could have something to drink while I work. I lost a little bit of my grip on the white, boring Styrofoam cup. I grabbed it again very quickly and sighed heavily with relief. That would've been hot. I looked down at my shirt and I was absolutely mortified. There is was staring up back at me just like my boss would, ugly, disgusting, fowl, contemptible, and just below my collar bone. It was almost parasitic, growing like a mud colored amoeba, a horrible little protozoa. A progeny of my carelessness, one slip of a finger and this was what I had to show for it. On a white shirt no less. Becoming that much more evident to anybody and impossible to wipe off with my hands or a paper towel. I felt nothing but utter resentment. I wanted to turn this place into a war zone, this little slip up was now a crime punishable by multiple homicide. Can someone get my jacket for me? Yes, its the white one with the very long sleeves and all the belts.
I am Wesley Bonneville...and my day has been ruined.