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Death of a Salesman The phone rings. I’m busy carelessly working my day job. I had no idea it was all going to change. I was told to get the phone. “Whatdaya want?” It was not a good time to take a personal call. The man on the other line was not a friend but he was not a stranger either. I’ll call him “Joe”. My eighteenth birthday was about two months ago I was a pizza delivery boy for a local family owned business. It doesn’t really matter how my life got to this point. Frankly, I had no idea the serious trouble that was evident from the beginning. Nevertheless, I had let life slip into a hazy madness of drug use. The man on the phone wanted drugs for a party he was having later that night, and I was going to make seventy or so dollars. I not only used drugs, I had become a good liar. I turned to my friend whom I was closing with and told him a lie I was sure he would easily believe. “My mom’s car is broken down and I need to go pick her up.” “Yeah, right.” He replied. It was not such a good lie. I told him I would be back in an hour. I set off on my way.
Approximate Word count = 876
Approximate Pages = 3.5
(250 words per page double spaced)
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