Roughdraft2 - James Montgomery Creative Writing Rough Draft...

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James Montgomery Creative Writing Rough Draft 1 I Love You, Mom Because he is supposed to, he sits there, typing away endlessly with no inkling as to why he types; he just does it because he’s supposed to. He does it because everybody is supposed to have a job. He does it because if he didn’t have a job, then he wouldn’t be normal, and to be normal is the safest way to please; the safest way to not disappoint. So he sits there typing not for himself, but to make sure that she could not ever be cross with him or sad or anything other than pleased and happy. For her, he would do anything. Such are the woe’s of the momma’s boy, and this one, Donavon J. Frettle, was only happy to see her happy, his mum. He once took off work, using his collective vaca- tion weeks, to take care of her while she was down with the flu; after all she was fragile and sensitive and she needed him. Almost definitive to his stereotype he has a picture of her on his desk, in a cubicle, that blocks out the gray efficiency of his workspace. Every few minutes he looks over and notices just how perfect her smile was, and is, and this makes him smile. Smiling to himself happily in his gray cubicle in his office to which he does not particularly care for, he types because he is supposed to, totally at peace. “Fuck’s up?” A voice penetrates the serenity. Donavon looks over stunned that someone would be so blunt and uncouth, but keeps his tongue behind his shocked mouth, which he quickly resolves into a smile and cardboard greeting.
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Stated dryly with the surprise still quivering in each articulated word. “You surprised me a bit there!” Feigned enthusiasm, although the words are true. “Oh my b son, listen you got any coffee? I think I might needa sober up a bit before I get to work, you know what I’m sayin?” The reply is loosely worded with plenty of chuckling, but the slur has the fine tun- ing of a well trained drinker. “Actually no I don’t know what your saying, maybe. I do have some coffee, if that’s what you asked?” stated rigidly and uncertainly and then quietly curious, “Are you … drunk?” “Naaawww man, yerr drunk!” He grabs the coffee that Donavon mentioned before and begins to drink it slop- pily before protest can be voiced. Still confused Donavon takes the chance to take in who he is even speaking to. The man is garbed in slacks and a button down shirt with a tie, but so hastily put together that it seemed he barely remembered to put clothes on at all. He most likely hadn’t shaved for a few days, because stubble was breaking into ac- tual facial hair and he had the smell of liquor masked with soap, as if he had tried to cover up the smell by rubbing a bar on himself. Furthermore, despite his slang-speak, this man was white. Casper white. He had no business talking like a ‘wannabe gangster,’ or so Donavon thought. “Man this coffee was really good, I can
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This note was uploaded on 11/16/2011 for the course 351 212 taught by Professor Staff during the Spring '10 term at Rutgers.

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Roughdraft2 - James Montgomery Creative Writing Rough Draft...

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