Progressive Alternative Writing Exercises: Good Room/Bad Room


“what happened? i’m not done with you yet” “my fists have your blood on them” “hadouken!” hmmm, good times

A vacation to Ireland is just what I needed. The oceanside bluffs were just as I imagined: a wonder I feared I would never see. Even though the trip was everything I expected and more, I am looking forward to getting back stateside though. Resting at home for the remainder of week means I’ll be ready for work next Monday. The long cab ride back to my loft off Langley could not sour my mood. However, after getting upstairs and opening the door my entire attitude flipped on its side and then on its back.
I had left my neice in charge of maintaining my place while I was gone. She told me I could trust her and did not even have to pay. As the door swung open it was stopped half-way by multiple t-shirts laying in the forey. They were not my shirts and did not look like hers. The living room was littered with other clothing and shoes, alcohol bottles, broken plates with aged cheesedip encrusted on them, and half empty paper cups. The smell was atrocious, something between feet and cornchips. Worse yet, there were about a half dozen semi-naked young people laid about the room. I could feel my heart just about burst from my chest. Rage and disappointing building i hold nothing back as I shout, with the strength of thunder, “Talia!”


The day seemed as if it would have never ended. Report after report after damn report needed filing, and I felt as if I were the only person getting them complete. My supervisor and team lead left at lunch, but refused to allow me to leave saying too much work needed completion. What…the…deuce?! On top of that, I got pulled over on the way home. A $217.00 ticket is what I have to work overtime for now. I hate the corrupted jerkoffs that wear badges in this city. Right as the bastard cop left I text my roommates to meet me at The Spot. I needed a break from my world.
Me and Lorrence were the first to arrive, and as soon as I entered my favorite Thursday night hangout a smile jumped unto my face. The smell of pizza, ice cream, soda, and fried foods flooded my nostrils. Metallic balls bouncing off bumpers, the contrasting upbeat melody that denotes a character’s failure, and self confident cocky chants rang in my ears. Brilliant flashing lights mesmerized me and I could not wait to gobble up white pegs as “ink-ghosts” chased my 8-bit yellow character.


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