Thursday, January 27, 2011

The jammed door opens, with a thud revealing the room. On the cream colored carpet that surrounds the dark room, small piles of unorganized and crumpled clothing lay and small black B.B. bullets lay across embedded within the carpet. The floor is covered in crumpled gym clothes that hide a pile of twisted cables coiled beyond repair. The bed, which is covered with a blue sheet with the exception of the dark red pillows, is neatly organized. The walls are a bright white color with a few cracks and chipped pieces of paint due to the use of a B.B. gun. There is a sudden splash not loud enough to sound through the room but enough to grab attention, the splash are the dark green frogs moving through the plastic mini-Aquarium. The Small tank lay atop a mahogany colored drawer that looks exactly alike to the one on the other side of the bed. On the other drawer a shabby old chrome lamp stands while under it, there are many dirty copper coins that are in an organized pile. Next to the coins lays a yellow covered book entitled Jokelopedia, next to it is a bent up red colored SI Live ticket. A few feet away from the drawer is a black guitar stand that barely holds two guitars, one electric guitar with white inlay and brown body, The strings are old and worn the guitar has small bumps while the paint is chipped away on one side and on the body, there is a small knob missing. In front of the bed lays a blank wall a few feet away from it is a huge dresser, on top of it a shiny black Toshiba television with various HDMI cable sticking from the back. Next to the television is an upright, black colored Playstation 3 a bit dusty with finger prints on the chromed parts. Opposite of the huge dresser is a small black one person leather sofa, strategically moved so that the television was easily visible. The window is three feet tall and six feet wide, it is open letting in a cool gust of wind as well as a thick layer of fog that fills the room, an interesting event that happens because of the downward direction of the hill my house is on. The room is silent only the small splashes of the frogs are heard and then a short, wide figure appears at the doorway hard to see because of the immense amount of fog that fills the room the figure enters the room and there stands my mother. My mother enters wearing a tattered red shirt with a few paint marks on it with jeans that are worn but still blue, her shoes however are not as fortunate, her shoes are white Nikes with various skid marks and creases which show years and years of use she steps forward and says “ Get on with your homework! And stop writing on that blog!”.

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