Creative Writing: Out with a Bang

Julie’s dreams never worked out. She had dreams of going to college, but that fell through. No money. Was it her fault that the economy took a nose dive and no one wanted to give her a scholarship? Julie was going to graduate in the top half of her class. But, then she’d missed one final exam. Did she ask to get the flu or to forget the date of the makeup exam? Work for living, meet the right people, and take advantage of your opportunities. How she hated the advice she got from her parents. Well, this was where Julie drew the line. This was where she would set herself apart from the crowd. No more Loser for Julie. She was going to be the best Executive Assistant in the world. And, she was going to start today.

“Good morning,” Julie sang as she stepping into Mr. Goepfrisch’s office, holding a steaming mug of coffee between her hands. She took baby steps, combined with a slow knee-locking-gait she’d discovered kept the liquid from sloshing over the lip and running down over the Company logo. Julie had perfected this delivery over the last eighteen months, the sum total of her employment with Goepfrisch Enterprises; Executive Personal Assistant, her official title. If only he’d let her. Unfortunately, Julie knew she was nothing more than a slave. And, then not a trusted slave, but, one assigned only the most mundane of duties. Well, starting today Mr. Goepfrisch would recognize her worth.

Julie looked at the desktop, from tip to stern it was covered with papers, pamphlets, and what appeared as outright trash. Daring to hold the mug with only one hand, she scooted an adding machine away from the edge, and sat the mug down; the coffee splashed over the edge and ran over her right hand. Stinging from the hot liquid,...

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...ial ficus tree.

“Everything’s right where I need it.” Click, click, swish. “Where are those Phelps…? Oh, another check. Better get this over to accounting, Jule.” Mr. Goepfrisch held the envelope out and Julie leaned over the desk to take the envelope. Mr. Goepfrisch didn’t take his eyes from the stack in front of him. Jule, she hated that name.

“I forgot about these.” Mr. Goepfrisch stopped rifling and let the pile of papers fall to his lap. He picked up a silver letter opener and slit the top of an envelope. He withdrew strips of white cardboard and fanned them out in his beefy hands. “Looks like baseball tickets will go to waste.” He shook his head slowly, “I need to get ready for the meeting tomorrow, can’t stop now. Sure wish I’d remembered about them though, it’ll be a good game.” He tucked the tickets in his breast pocket and resumed his search.