Why You Were Late For The Meeting - Rewrite

I received some feedback about this specific prompt.  Apparently I use the word "I" a little too often when writing in first person and should revise and rewrite the story accordingly.  Here are the results:

I was feeling the effects of the food coma after a carb rich lunch when my phone started vibrating.  I fumbled with it but managed not to drop it.  A single screen tap brought me to an email with a single line: "don't forget, we have a meeting in 10 minutes."

Freaking out, I got up and bumped the table in the process.  The silverware rattled on the plates and a cup of water spilled over.  "I'm sorry.  I really need to go."  I handed the waiter a ten dollar bill and took off running.

The café was only a block away from the office but the short sprint left me gasping for air.  I stopped for a second to catch my breath when the phone started vibrating again.  I didn't bother to check it but instead walked into the building, noticing one of the elevators was open.  "Hold the door!"  I yelled and took off running.  The door closed just before I reached it.  I lost my footing trying to stop and ended up on the floor knocking down the trash can between the elevators.

I got up and ran across the lobby and headed for the stairs.  The stairwell was made up of grey concrete and grey railings spanning from the basement all the way up to the tenth floor, my final destination.  After climbing 5 stories, the fifth floor door flew open.  A young executive assistant came through the door carrying about two trees worth of paper and bumped into me.  I grabbed her by the arm and steadied her.  One more step and we would have had a Carnival in the stairwell.

I made sure she was OK and continued on my journey.  Three more stories and my progress had slowed down to a crawl.  A hissing sound coming from one of the floors above.  I leaned on the railing and looked up towards the ceiling but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.  The sound became louder as I got closer to the top.  The tenth floor greeted me with a leaky water pipe that was spraying water in a mist over the steps.  I put my hand in front of me to shield myself from the water when the pipe burst open.  Cold water rained on me and within seconds I was soaked from head to toe.  I managed to stay on my feet and staggered to the door, went through it, and shut it behind me.

Everyone in the office stopped to look at me.  "Where's the meeting?" I said between breaths.

"You didn't get the memo?" one of my coworkers asked chuckling.

Dumbfounded I reached into my pocket and took out my phone, unlocked the screen, touched the email icon and then selected the unread email.  It read: "Meeting rescheduled for tomorrow.  Don't be late."

Why You Were Late For The Meeting

You're at lunch when your smartphone buzzes with an e-mail from your boss: "Don't forget, we have a meeting in 10 minutes."  Of course you did forget, so you rush out of the restaurant and attempt to make it before it starts.  But a crazy chain of events stops you from getting back in time for the meeting.  Writer's Digest

I was feeling the effects of the food coma I had just caused when my phone started vibrating.  I fumbled with it but managed not to drop it.  I touched the screen and read the email on it.  The email contained a single line: "don't forget, we have a meeting in 10 minutes."

I freaked out and bumped the table as I got up.  The silverware rattled on the plates and a cup of water spilled over.  "I'm sorry.  I really need to go."  I handed the waiter a ten dollar bill and took off running.

The café was only a block away from the office but I was already gasping for air when I reached the front door.  I stopped for a second to catch my breath when my phone started vibrating again.  This time I didn't bother to check it and walked into the building.  I looked across the lobby and noticed one of the elevators was open.  I took off running and yelled "Hold the door!"  The door closed as I was getting to it.  I lost my footing as I tried to stop and ended up on the floor knocking down the trash can between the elevators.

I got up and ran across the lobby and headed for the stairs.  The stairwell was made up of grey concrete and grey railings spanning from the basement all the way up to the tenth floor, my final destination.  I was about to reach the fifth floor when the door flew open.  A young executive assistant came through the door carrying about two trees worth of paper and bumped into me.  I grabbed her by the arm and steadied her.  One more step and we would have had a Carnival in the stairwell.

I made sure she was OK and continued on my journey.  By the time I reached the eighth floor I had slowed down considerably.  Then I noticed a hissing sound coming from above.  I leaned on the railing and looked up towards the ceiling but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.  I continued to climb becoming more aware of the sound as I got closer to the source.  I reached the tenth floor to be greeted by a leaky water pipe.  I put my hand in front of me to shield myself from the water when the pipe burst open.  Cold water rained on me and within seconds I was soaked from head to toe.  I managed to stay on my feet and staggered to the door, went through it, and shut it behind me.

Everyone in the office stopped to look at me.  I tried to catch my breath, then asked "where's the meeting?"

"You didn't get the memo?" one of my coworkers asked chuckling.

Dumbfounded I reached into my pocket and took out my phone.  With wet fingers I unlocked the screen, touched the email icon and then selected the unread email.  It read: "Meeting rescheduled for tomorrow.  Same time."

Bribing an IRS Agent

There’s a knock on the door. It’s an IRS agent who has come to your house to audit your taxes. Knowing that you fudged a few numbers on your forms, you decide to attempt to bribe the agent. Much to your surprise, it’s working, but things take a peculiar turn when the agent makes an odd request. Write this scene.  Writer's Digest

As I was getting ready to feed my fish I heard a solid knock on the door.  I placed the food on the table and walked over to the door and looked out through the peephole.  There was a man standing on my porch.  He stood a little over six feet tall with broad shoulders, a thin complexion, and a tired expression on his face.  He wore a two piece suit and a leather shoulder bag.  He had no adornments or jewelry, aside from his wedding ring.  He raised his hand to knock on the door again and I asked through the door, "Who are you?"

"My name is John Pierce, I work for the Internal Revenue Service."  He shifted his leather briefcase to his right hand and used his left hand to get his credentials and hold them up to the peephole.  I opened the door and he moved his hand holding his credentials towards me.

"How can I help you Mr. Pierce?"  I said.

"I was sent here to talk to you about your taxes Mr. Klein.  May I come in?"

"Sure."  I said opening the door.  I led him to the living room.  There was no furniture in the room besides an arm chair and a coffee table.  On either side of the room were my two aquariums.  One full of exotic fish.  The other held a school Piranhas.

John Pierce took out a single manila folder from his bag and pointed at the coffee table.  "May I use this table Mr. Klein?"

"Please call me Allan."  I said nodding.  He ignored my comment and continued sorting his papers.

"Mr. Klein, there are some irregularities with your tax forms."

"Is that so?"

"Yes sir.  Although you have an exotic fish business, your revenue comes from the sales of aquariums and accessories, yet the majority of your expenses revolve around exotic fish."  He must have noticed my clueless expression and continued on.  "You see Mr. Klein, if you are not selling fish, why are you buying so many of them?  Unless they are not for the shop and are instead part of a personal collection."  He looked directly at one of my aquariums, then the other, then back at me.

"John, may I call you John?"  He nodded.  "You see, my shop is very small and I can only keep a limited amount of fish in the aquarium there."

"The problem is Mr. Klein, that you have never sold a single exotic fish in your shop, which makes you either a liar or a very bad business man.  Claiming these are part of your shop is far fetched and I for one don't buy it."

"I guess you're right John.  What if some of these fish found a new home?  Like a promotional or marketing strategy?  Do you have kids?"

"Are you trying to bribe me Mr. Klein?"  He said and walked over to one of the aquariums.

"Not at all John!"  I said trying to sound offended and failing.  "I am just trying to see what my immediate options are."

"I see.  Well, Allan, I guess we could work something out.  I am sure my daughter would be thrilled to have one of these."  He pointed at one of the most colorful fish in my tank.

"That is a beautiful Mandarinfish.  I am sure she would be thrilled.  I can arrange to have it delivered to you along with a suitable aquarium and anything else you may need to give it a cozy home.  Do we have a deal John?"

"One more thing Allan," he said with a hint of a smile on his face.  "I understand that piranhas put up a good show when fed and I would love to see it before I go."

"Sure!"  I said unable to contain my excitement.  I walked over to the aquarium and took out a piece of meat from the container on the table.  I opened the lid of the aquarium and John stopped me.

"Allan, that's just not fair."  I looked at him perplexed.  "The piranhas are hunters and a piece of dead meat is not what you would call fair game, is it?"  I shook my head.  "If you want me to fix your paperwork," he used his hands to make air quotes around the word fix, "then you need to do better than that."

"What do you want from me?"  I said and heard a hint of fear in my voice.

"Stick your hand in the tank Allan.  Give your hand to the hungry piranhas and all of your problems disappear."  I looked at John, at the papers on the coffee table, at the aquarium, and back at John.  "Go on!"

I placed my had just above the water and watched the fish stir up in excitement.  I thought to myself, here goes nothing! and plunged my hand in with the fishes.

St. Patrick's Day Hangover

You wake up the morning after St. Patrick's Day and don't remember much of the evening (thanks to too many green beers).  You also notice some discomfort on your forearm.  When you roll up your sleeve, you discover a tattoo of a map.  Panic sets in as you realize that you now have a tattoo on your arm, but curiosity takes over as you wonder where the map leads.  Writer's Digest

I woke up to a putrid smell. I opened my eyes to see a lake of green liquid with bits of what looked like food floating in it.  My head was resting on the toilet seat, my arms wrapped around its porcelain base.
I let go of the toilet and sat with my back against the wall.  My left forearm was on fire and my shirt sleeve looked like I had been finger painting with black paint. I rolled up the sleeve of my now ruined flannel shirt to discover the source of the pain.  Squiggly lines in a sea of black ink covered most of the inside of my forearm.  In the middle of it was a indiscernible red mark.  I wiped absently at it but the ink and what seemed to be blood was now dry and would require a more thorough cleaning.  I reached into the bathtub and turned on the water.  I worked my way up to the edge of the tub only to find myself falling in the pool of cold water that was now accumulating in it.  I decided to stay there until the room stopped spinning.

When I finished cleaning myself up I went downstairs to find the aftermath of what must have been a great party.  Either that or a huge fight, I couldn't tell which.  The entire place reeked of booze and vomit.  Many people laid about, most of them on the floor, and none of them moved or made a sound.

I sat on the stairs to re-examine my forearm.  The squiggly lines turned out to be a tattoo of a map, a very detailed map actually.   If I didn't know any better I would have thought it was a rendition of a pirate treasure map.  Treasure or not, I decided to follow the map to see if it would help me figure out how I ended up here.  I left the house and started walking.  I tried to catch a cab or a bus but saw neither.  The streets were deserted so I had to walk a couple of miles before I reached the area depicted on my map.

I arrived at an empty lot outside of town.  Orange and red hues of light lit up the sky creating long shadows all around me.  I looked at my forearm to make sure I was at the right place and started looking for the small landmarks referenced in the map.  I went to the first marker -a large boulder- faced the oak tree then started counting my steps.  I was on my way to the only colored landmark on the map.  The X marked the spot.

The temperature was a few degrees colder under the trees.  Combined with my damp shirt it was a bit too cold.  As I got closer I noticed something sticking out of the ground.  I took a few more steps and realized it was a small camping shovel.  It showed some signs of wear but it was still in good shape.  There were no marks or brands on it, aside from hand painted red X on the handle.  I looked around to see if anybody was watching me, felt satisfied that I was alone, took the shovel and went to work.

The dirt was soft and the digging was almost effortless.  I was digging long enough for the orange hues to disappear to the West and the moon to appear to the East.  Then, the tip of the shovel hit something.  I threw the shovel aside, fell to my knees and started digging with my hands.  I kept scraping the wood looking for an edge, a handle, something to grab a hold of.  I uncovered enough surface to notice the wood panel was sagging under my weight.  I reached for the shovel.

Still on my knees I pointed the sharp edge of the shovel down and started stabbing the wood.  It made some crunching noises then a piece finally broke off sending me face first onto the wood, making me drop the shovel into the space below.  That didn't stop me however, and I stuck my hands in the hole and pried at the wood.  Little pieces of wood kept breaking off allowing me little to no progress.  I used both hands to grip the wood on one side of the hole and managed to break off a large piece of the panel, causing it to collapse under my weight.

I wrestled the remaining pieces from under me and stopped cold at the sight of my discovery.  I rubbed my eyes in disbelief and looked back down at the decomposing body in front of me. I picked up the shovel to uncover the face.  The face was covered in dirt, but after twenty years of looking at it in the mirror it was unmistakable; I had just unearthed my own lifeless body.

Best Friends Need Your Help

You receive a phone call from your two best friends.  "Hey, we've done something terribly wrong and need your help.  We can't talk about it over the phone.  Please meet us at the spot where we made our pact back in high school.  You know the place."  Nervously, you grab your coat and car keys.  Writer's Digest

I was eating a delicious hamburger when my cell phone started ringing.  The loud guitar solo that serves as my ring tone startled me and I made a mess of my fries.  I thought about ignoring the call but when I saw the number I knew it was important. 
I hit the answer button.  "This better be good"  I said.

"Jeremy!" Edwin said almost immediately.  "Hey, we've done something terribly wrong and need your help.  We can't talk about it over the phone.  Please meet us at the spot where we made our pact back in high school.  You know the place."

The line went dead.  I attempted to call Edwin but the call went straight to voicemail.  I snatched my keys and left the apartment, leaving the TV on, my half-eaten burger on the coffee table, and my fries scattered across the carpet.

I arrived at Johnson's High about fifteen minutes later.  The parking lot was an asphalt desert with very few working light poles.  At the far end of the parking lot was the main building, and inside it, the chemistry lab where we made a pact to take care of each other, no matter what.

As I approached the building I noticed how unkempt it was.  The once luxurious school now looked like an old man forgotten by his family and ignored by the nursing home staff.  Most of the windows were boarded up and the few that weren't, were broken.  The chain used to lock the front set of doors was cut and laying on the stairs.  The right door was open.

A small hint of light could be seen through the door as if someone inside was waving a flashlight.  "Ed?" I yelled towards the building but received no answer.  "Time to go in then."  I said in a low voice in an attempt to convince myself that going inside was a good idea.

I went up the steps and into the building.  The hall was extremely dark, the only light coming from outside through the doorway I was now blocking.  I took out my cell phone and turned it on, using the screen as a flashlight and started down the hall.

All the labs were on the back side of the building.  I walked down the hall, expecting something sinister to jump out at me.  I turned the corner into the back hallway just as my cell phone screen timed out, turning an already dark hallway into a black hole.  I fumbled trying to turn it back on when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.  Without a though, my feet carried me in that direction.  I took a deep breath and walked into the room.

The lights came on and everyone I knew at the time yelled in unison, "Surprise!  Happy Birthday Jeremy!"

Not-So-Anonymous Commenter

You've been writing a blog for a number of months now without issue, then suddenly you are confronted with an anonymous commenter who posts unwarranted slams against you.  A techie friend helps you use the commenter's IP address to get the address of this rogue.  You head to the house ready to pick a fight-but when you knock on the door, the person who answers is someone you know. Writer's Digest

"Again?" I yelled at the computer screen.  "That's it!"

I punched Mike's number into the virtual keypad and put the receiver up to my ear.  Mike picked up the line on the second ring.

"Sup?" He said.

"The dude is at it again.  That's what's up"

"I'm on it.  I'll have something by the time you get here."

I took one last look at the nasty comment on my screen and then left the room.  I walked down the hall to Mike's room and knocked on the door.  "Coming."  Mike said from the other side.  He opened the door and gestured for me to come in. "What took you so long."

I looked at his desk to see if he made any progress.  There were so many computer screens that I didn't have a clue as to which one would contain any information useful to me.  "There," he said pointing at a monitor labeled A3.  "That's the IP address to the person who keeps trolling your blog."  He hit a couple of keys on one of the keyboards and the image changed.  "And that, my friend, is the physical address."

"How in the world do you do that?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets."  He said this as he picked a large bottle of Mountain Dew and sucked down what was left in it.  He sat back down in his chair and turned back to his screens.

"Come on.  Let's go!"  I said impatiently.

"I'm not one for confrontations man."  He said never taking his eyes away from whichever screen he was looking at.  "Go on without me.  Just yell if you need me."  He waved a hand in the general direction of the door.

"You little girl."  I said grinning.  "Thanks for the help anyway."

I stepped out into the hall, the door closing behind me.  I looked left, then right, took one step forward and knocked on the door.  I heard some giggling coming from the other side of the door but there was no movement.  I closed my hands into fists so tight my nails started digging into my skin.  I pounded on the door again.  This time, I heard someone moving inside the room, then the door swung open.

"Jessica?"  I said relaxing my hands.

"Who else?" She said looking at the number on her door.  "I see you got my postings."

"That was you?"  I answered.  "I can't believe you would do something like that!"

"How else would I get you to come over?"  She said smiling.  "Now, just quit complaining and come on in."

I walked into my girlfriend's room and she closed the door behind us.

Retirement Party Food Fight

After 40 years at the same job, you are finally ready to retire.  Your coworkers throw you a party with a cake and ice cream.  Everything is going well until the end of the celebration when they ask you to speak.  Instead of using this opportunity to thank everyone, you reveal a deep, dark secret about your boss that leads to a massive food fight.  W.D.

I arrived at the office to be received by a mob yelling "Surprise!" to the top of their lungs.  There were people from all departments, from manufacturing all the way up to the Executive Officers.

The group parted like the Red Sea did for Moses revealing a large table.  On it sat a wonderful red velvet cake.  I would say it was a beautiful cake but any cake with my face on it cannot be called beautiful.  Next to the cake was the ice cream and further left was an assortment of cookies.  The group clapped as I admired the table arrangement then suddenly silenced.  My supervisor came behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey bud!" he said.  "How does it feel to be retiring?"

"Feels great Bob." I said with a smile.

He turned and addressed the employees.  "Help yourselves to cake and ice cream people.  It's time to celebrate.

As the employees ate Bob's secretary handed him a large plaque.  He addressed the employees one more time and after reading the inscription on the plaque he shook my hand and handed it to me.  I looked at the group, smiling, as flashes of light came from all directions.  After he let go of my hand he  gestured the employees to be quiet.

"Paul was a great employee and will surely be missed."  He said.  "Any words of encouragement to your coworkers Paul?"

I waited a few seconds to let the clapping die down before I spoke.

"Thanks for this honor." I said. "I love spending time with all of you and will certainly miss you.  What I will not miss is being ignored and worst of all being passed for promotions."  I put my hand on Bob's shoulder.  "Don't be shy Bob.  Why don't you tell them your promotion criteria?"  Bob stared at me in silence.  "He uses a dart board.  Piece of cake!"  All of the employees started booing.

Someone threw a piece of cake that landed on Bob's chest.  A ball of ice cream came a second later.  Bob threw his cake aimlessly towards the employees hitting a table, splattering frosting all over the CEO.  The room fell silent as the CEO wiped his suit then picked up his cake and threw it at Bob, hitting him in the face.  That was all the employees needed and the massacre began.  Cake, frosting, ice cream, and all sorts of flatware flew across the room towards Bob covering him from head to toe.

I picked up the remainder of the cake from the table and crushed it on Bob's face.  "This is what I think of you Bob!  What we all think of you!"

I walked over to the CEO and shook his hand.  "It was a pleasure working for you sir but I think is time to take out the trash."

"I agree," he said.  He looked at Bob and in his best Donald Trump impersonation he said, "Bob, you're fired!"