Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

New Guy

I was given a set of words from a seperate site, that is why some of them have stars on each side.


Vincent raced up the stairs, in hopes that he wouldn't be *tardy* for the latest business meeting. The elevator was broken, so poor Vince, a newcommer to the business world had woken up late because of his suposedly "*loud*" alarm clock did not wake him.

In *comparison* to his co-workers, Vince wore his tie loose, his suit coat unbuttoned, and his button-up shirt, untucked.

He tried to brush his disorginized, thick black hair back as the wind blew past his face, in an attempt to keep him less frustrated by having hair in his face.

It certainly did not help him because of his band was performing from the night earlier had stayed up all night, and so he, and all of his band, "The *Witch* Hunters" would be having a rough morning.

Getting to the conference room, Vince new right there that he was late. He could hear chatting from the other side of the door, and the outside handle was labeled, "Meeting in progress, do not disturb".


He was late, and for what? A new *juggling* performance that would take place at the big Saint Patricks Day celebration in the lobby?

Vince leaned against the wall, frustrated, and that is when it dawned on him. He wouldn't miss the meeting if he crawled up in the *vent* just next to the door.

Spying down the hallway, he saw that nobody was out in the hallway, and, attempting to rub the remainer of black paint off of his nails, he unloosed the bolts, and climbed ever so cautiously into the vent. Making sure that his arms and knees were at each side of the vent, he knew that they would make a terrible clunking sound.

Hearing voices, Vincent strained to hear them, so he marched on closer. He was above the long table in the conference room now. He felt like a he was in a movie the way he was spying in from the vents.

Pulling out his Blackberry, he held it cautiously above the vent in the most comfortable, yet quiet position he could hold, and that's when it happened.

Feeling a bit of the tin lose the pressure under his elbow, Vince could not react fast enough to stop the bottom of the vent make a loud popping noise, and in an attempt to avoid it, dropped the Blackberry through the vent, and smashed on the hard wooden table underneath.

Simountaniously looking up, Vince cursed himself as he backed clumsily out of his position, hitting every possible noise trap on the way back. he could only imagine the look on their confused faces as he backed up more and more, and to his horror, felt the grate behind him.

Somebody had closed the vent, and now Vince was trapped inside.

Laying down to gather his senses, he knew that if he was caught, Mr.*Rheumatoid* would most certainly be displeased. Pulling at his falling down pants, Vince gave up, and kicked at the vent behind him relentlessly, making the most racket of the whole day. All through the whole building you could hear a crunching and a kicking sound because of the way the vents made their ways up through the entire twenty story building.
Finally kicking the vent door from the wall, he watched as chunks of hard-wall flew in every direction in small white chunks.
Climbing out as quickly as possible, he slumped from the vent and onto the floor, covered in dust and debris. He was the day's fool, and he knew it.
It had never *stricken* him before to ask one of his co-workers about the results of the meeting after they were done. He felt terrible, and not three minutes afterwards, he heard the meeting ajourn, and it hit him in the head like a baseball bat that he needed to wash up in the bathroom. . .now.

Darting down the hallway like a madman, he rushed his way into the bathroom knocking another young gentelman out of the way on his way out.
Vince stood in front of the mirror, and tucked in his shirt, and flapped his coat in the wind in hopes to lift the thick dust off, but to no avail.
throwing it back on, Vince sat in the nearest stall, defeated. Oh what would he do to mess up his day now.
That's when he heard it: a door squeeked open and Vince held his breath trying to recognize the voice, but couldn't.
Looking under the stall, he tried to recognize him by his shoes, but being an office building, everyone's pants and shoes were alike.
He could hear the water running at the sink, and Vince slowly opened up his stall door, and in doing so, the water went off, and as Vince peeked around the corner, he could see a slightly older man holding a paper towel in his hands, cracked Blackberry on the counter.
The old man was stirn, but had a caring look. "What in Hades name were you trying to pull off Vincent?!"
Vince eyed the piece of property that belonged to him on the counter, and gulped. He felt like an *insect* that was about to be swatted dead, and at the moment, he had wished so to save him from this humiliation.
"I, uh, sir, I um. . ." Vince stammered, pulling at his necking "I'm sorry that I'm so obsolete sir, I'll just show myself out."
Hanging his head, Vince walked by the older man and grabbed his Blackberry on his way by, trying to avoid eye contact.
"Wait a second Vincent!" The old man cried, Vince froze in his steps, he could hear Mr.*Paisley*, and Mr.*Maladroit* comming in from the meeting, he heard Mr. Paisley's voice.
"What a *hoot*! I never would have in my wildest dreams would have . . ." He came to a stop, meeting face to face with Vince as he entered the bathroom.
Mr.Maladroit coughed, and excused himself from the room as did Mr. Paisley.
Vince turned to meet the old man, and the old man spoke to him:
"It takes absolute dedication, or stupidity to do that Mr. *Opulent*, and I don't know which one it is."
He held out some mints, and smiled, "That's okay, I hid in the trash can in MY first meeting."
Vincent let a smile creep across his face and he grabbed the mints and walked from the bathroom at the thought of the old man hiding in a trash can.
The thought made his rather terrible day much less terrible. He was sure that he would be in the old man's position one day when HE met a new guy, late for a meeting.

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