The sound of an alarm clock blaring wakes me up. It doesn't sound familiar, it's not my alarm clock. This one sounds ugly. Like the sound reaches into the depths of my soul and shakes me to wake me up. I sit up and crawl over to the other side of the bed to reach the nightstand and the wretched alarm clock. It's not mine so I can't rip it from the wall and throw it across the room. How the heck do I turn this thing off?? I push all of the buttons but nothing seems to be working. Finally, after about three minutes of trying to figure out the most annoying device in the world, I just get out of bed and unplug it. Sorry Jasper, but that was too much. It was one of those alarm clocks that just gets louder and louder the longer it stays on. I look …show more content…
It's 7AM. My phone didn't charge last night, it's on 12%. I plug it into a different outlet and this time I make sure it's charging. After that, I take a shower. Then I walk around the house to find Jasper. This time though, I avoid the knobless door in the basement. Jasper is nowhere to be seen! I walk outside and sure enough, his truck is gone. No note, no text, nothing. Well, maybe he was just busy. Something happened that needed his attention immediately. I'm not gonna rummage through his fridge, that's weird. I gather my things and head back to my …show more content…
"You kids wonder why I keep everyone on such a tight leash. Hm. This place would be another coffee drinking, free Wi-Fi, hipster joint if I didn't take care of it." She replies. I try my hardest not to laugh. She's pretty ridiculous. Agnes is afraid of the younger generation. She doesn't agree with so many things. I don't blame her but at the same time, it's about time she just accepts it. Ignores and coexists at least! She walks back to the front as another customer walks in. "Hi! Welcome to Spick n' Span's. What can I do-" "Oh no, no, no, no. Dear, you said it wrong. How many times have I told you? It's Spec's Spick n' Span Spotless cleaners!" Agnes rushes in interrupting me. "I'm sorry?" I reply with a confused expression on my face. "Go take a break, Dear. I'll handle this lovely lady's order." She instructs. "O-okay?" I reply and walk away slowly. I accidentally bump into Bertha as I'm walking away. "Do you know who that is?" She turns me around and asks as she points at the woman who just walked in. "Nope." I answer and pull away from her. "That's the owner." She says. "Cool?" I reply. "Agnes has had the biggest crush on her since forever." She
The American Dream is dead and people are now concerned with just holding on to what they have.
The American Dream is something that so many people will strive to have one day. Doing so, a person may want the perfect house, family, and job. For Gatsby, that American Dream is fading away faster than ever. He had the house and the job, but one thing was missing, Daisy. Gatsby’s fighting for Daisy made him lose everything that he had gained for himself. In the end, Gatsby’s optimism and hope for a life with Daisy ends up killing him. F. Scott Fitzgerald delivers in his book, The Great Gatsby, a great description of the setting and his thoughts and emotions to readers in using ideas that people can relate to in this day and age. The development of the characters helps establish why The Great Gatsby is considered “good
He’s stalling. Gatsby is normally right to the point. Something must be up, Anthony thought, “Look here Gatsby, quit wasting my time and say what you mean to.”
As The Great Gatsby progresses, the reader feels a range of emotions for each of the character, especially the narrator. The story of Jay Gatsby is told in the point of view of Nick Carraway, Gatsby’s only real friend and he is also a participant in the book. Although most of the main characters in the book are rich and come from “old money” Nick works hard to rent a house “at West Egg, the-well, the less fashionable of the two [Eggs]” (5). Even so, Nick says that his “ own house [is] an eyesore, but it [is] a small eyesore” (5). Nick does not exactly complain about his house as much as the reader would expect him to. Throughout the book, Gatsby has three different personas and he uses the other characters in the book to make his ultimate dream come true. Nick is not excluded and he is taken advantage of by Gatsby just like everyone else. Ultimately, Nick is
Thesis: How does F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel, The Great Gatsby, compares the American Dream in today's generation and back in the 1920's-30's? What did the American Dream really mean and why? So why did this issue happen? Do you think America can change in the future? What is the american dream really about? When did the phrase: ‘american dream’ started? Have you ever wondered what the 20s and 30s were like back then? How can this so called dream ever bring hope to our country? These are all the questions I would like to know myself. I’ve found three online sources & one source from the novel that can help explain about the 20th century, the Gatsby novel, today's generation, and about Mr.Gatsby from the book.
Think about being separated from the one you love. You thought this person would be in your life forever and always. You may have spent days and weeks thinking and planning your future together, but then one day they disappear from your life. That person has moved on, and chose to live a life that no longer including you. It would be assumed in most cases that the love of your life is no longer the person they were before, so should you stick around and try to win them back? In the case of Gatsby and Daisy, Gatsby did not realize Daisy would be different, and although he still thinks he is in love with Daisy, is he in love with her for who she is now, or the idea of everything she used to be the answer may shock you, and this is all due to the unreal expectations he has for her to fill. Because Gatsby is not in love with who she is at the time they are reunited. Instead, he is caught up in the idea of who she used to be. The actions of Gatsby, how he talks about her, and the relationship between Gatsby and Daisy once they are back together again show who Gatsby is really in love with, and that is the old Daisy.
“Yes, Stephanie. I will get to work right away.” She scrambled to the kitchen and getting all the cleaning supplies and her chorus list. She was finishing all her work and the only...
With a sigh, he sauntered up to the door and threw it open. " Scott." His eyes fell on the lump in the corner and he
He looks back up at her for a moment. “If that's alright?” “Yes, but only if call me Rosalind.” He smiled, “of course.”
Within the busy dockyard, the honking of automobiles: StandardElectricTourer, Garford Six-Fifty, Metz-Runabout, PremierModel 440 and many more coaches and vehicles were accompanied by the strolling people; the bright summer sky cloaked the world. It was no ordinary day for most people out there. The candy-floss clouds moved lazily across the sky; the bright sun gleamed brightly forcing people to squint and stare down. Not a drop of rain fell nor a sound of thunder boomed. What a perfect afternoon!
Literary composition has been one of the most influential parts of the human race. It is used to share history, teach us, and entertain us. Novels are one of the most enticing forms of literature for a reader. They suck you into their plot. They cause us to establish relationships with the characters.
I remember this night as if it were a reoccurring dream I performed in my head, I was as familiar with it as a bird with its wings. It was the time I met a baker, a boy, Alfie. I never learned his last name, he simply referred to himself as the baker’s boy. It’s been seven years now, and I feel if I don’t put pen to paper, I might explode. You see that night I met a character that imprinted himself in me in the simple time span of two hours.
John woke up in a glaringly sterile white place. He thought ”Why does this room have this colour scheme?” not realising that the colour scheme was like that so that it did not trigger him to do anything violent, like he was known to do. He walked over to the mirror which was the only other object besides the bed. As he walked over he wondered “Am I in a jail?”.
“Of course I’m laughing. You show up at my doorstep, don’t know who I am, and then don’t have a reason to be here. It’s hilarious.” I wasn’t sure about that, but I let it be and just laughed with her. It seemed…easier.
My morning always begins around seven o'clock when I am awakened by a sweet, gentle, little voice calling . . . "DADDY, I GO F'RIDE!" This is followed by a dainty smack of tiny lips on my cheek, then another smack of Mom's lips on my lips. A few minutes later, the front door slams shut and I slip back into a slumber. The next thing I hear (a few hours later) is the bloodcurdling, screaming caw of a pterodactyl about to swoop down and pluck me right out of my bed. Actually, it's only my alarm clock. I don't dare hit the snooze button, as I do not even want to hear that again.