It rings, its clarion call overwhelming and nigh-on deafening. The noise is a sonic relic of a forgotten generation, when the only a slight majority of the world was connected, and only by analog signals zapped through copper cabling. The musical warbling hits my ears like a siren, and my skull like a sledgehammer. With a pained and dramatic moan, I thrust out my hand and grope blindly. My fingers manage to hook around the cool plastic of the landline phone, but it clatters to the thin, faded carpet colored like a box of kitty litter (and with similar odors).
I curse under my breath, manage to snatch up that old-fashioned wired receiver, and emit a greeting which is more than a little guttural.
"Good morning, Mister Kruczek," comes the nasal and Northeastern-accented voice on the other end. "It's 7:00 AM."
I wonder who in the hell gives a shit, and remember I did. At least I did last night, as I passed the front desk on my way to this dingy hotel room, buzzed up on at least two substances and still riding high from my show's electric energy.
Time for some continental breakfast. Jelly and bagels.
The following challenges were completed during the writing exercise:
Begin Start typing to begin
Words Reach 50 words
Words Reach 100 words
Location A hotel
Event Breakfast is served
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