MARLON / The 9-5er

Here is an excerpt of a short story I wrote a few years back. I was pretty miserable at this time and it is reflected in the writing. Considering I hadn't written for years before I penned this, I'd say it's pretty good. I always enjoy writing the beginnings of stories, but it's harder trying the beginning, middle and end together. I've sent this to a couple of publications, but have never heard anything back. ANYWAY, here it is:

Marlon Wright was twirling in his chair, dully staring into the greyed floral pattern that adorned his cubicle walls when he was struck by a sudden realization.

He hated his life.

He was utterly lost in a dead end job. It barely covered his month’s rent, never mind the sky-high student debt rotting his budget, leftover from a worthless education now only signified by a flimsy piece of paper.

Oh, he was bitter, all right. Like every other goddamned 20-something scurrying about this measly town.

David’s eager, bespectacled face popped up above the cubicle frame. “Hey Marlon, you got those papers stamped yet?”

Marlon slowly and wordlessly handed over the pile.

“Thanks, buddy!” David flashed him a 1000-watt grin, and trotted off, his black patent shoes clicking down the hall with purpose and poise.

Marlon had both resented and envied David’s enthusiasm from the moment he had step foot in the Federal Tax Bureau. David was one of those types who tacked Dilbert cartoons along the edges of his cubicle in order to present the image of being slightly hip, edgy and “against the MAN”. But really, Marlon knew that David slept pretty soundly at night, tightly tucked underneath his crisply ironed, white IKEA bed sheets (500 thread count), pleased with the distinctly non-rebellious contribution he had to made to the world, within his allotted nine to five time slot.