Rewrite [insert cleverl filler text here]

So since the creative writing thing at my school still has me by the throat, I've written this lovely compilation of five minutes of effort. 8D No idea where I'm going with it or even if I'm going to continue it, just wanted to be all attention whore-ish and post it up. And yea, I know the ending could have been much better. I wrote this at 11 P.M.

The clinking and clanking of champagne glasses filled the lobby of The Main Street Inquirer to the brim with an obnoxious tone that was all but music to James’ ears. As his coworkers drank to his prestigious honor, he took a gaze at what he had. Finally, the respect he knew he deserved. No more would his fellow reporters see him as a rookie or an untalented hack who writes about pigeons and retirement homes.
Megan approached him from his right. The stunning blonde woman put her arm around James’ waist while smiling admiringly up at him. “Congratulations on that promotion, big guy!” she said softly as she embraced him.
“Well,” James began rather arrogantly, “It was only a matter of time before they realized my greatness.”
Megan pulled away slightly, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“What?” James asked with a puzzled expression.
She opened her mouth slowly, and as it reached the point of gaping, a loud alarming screech wailed out of her mouth.

James opened his eyes in panic. He practically rocketed out of his bed sheets whilst looking about to affirm where he was. He looked forward at the conspicuously torn lime green wallpaper, looked to the left at the dirty window with the broken blinds. Finally he looked to his right and found the source of the wail and pounded his hand down on its small rectangular frame. He half hoped to break the oh-so hated box.
The morning air turned his feet into anvils, as he dragged his spiritless body across the hardwood floor of his apartment’s bedroom. Quickly showering and shaving, he prepared a rather bitter cup of coffee and headed to work.
Finally navigating through the automobile herd of New York City, he reached the skyscraper and looked up in a dull manner. ‘So, this is what I am?’ he asked himself as he did every other day, ‘Another leg for the corporate giants’ armchairs?’ No matter how many times he asked himself this, he could never think of anything to follow up with. Really he amounted to nothing more than that. Sure, The Main Street Inquirer had the most subscribers in the city and made record profits almost every year, but that doesn’t make him any better than the next guy working at a self-published newspaper stand. He hadn’t established his name in the industry, he didn’t write a regular column, and he didn’t have any gripping stories. No matter what he did, the older, more experienced journalists would always jump on the bigger stories, all the while leaving him in the dust. What could he do besides write about what he could find? His stories reeked of mediocrity, and often covered topics that many found “insignificant”, as his boss would say time and time again. In James’ mind, significance depends on your perspective.
Pushing through the rotating door and slowly walking to the elevator, he pressed the number twenty-three and waited as the elevator took what felt like an eternity to reach his boss’ floor.
“Henderson! Where’s your story?” Mr. O’Brien barked as the elevator doors made way to reveal James standing behind them. “Right here, sir.” He said with a very noticeable hint of exhaustion, patting his laptop. He walked steadily over, passing several of his coworkers punching furiously at their keyboards. He placed the laptop on Mr. O’Brien’s desk, opened it up and revealed his story. Mr. O’Brien read it over in all of a minute and could only respond with a curt “I hate it.” James’ facial expression didn’t change in the slightest. It didn’t even move. Not a single muscle made a budge. He expected this reaction out of the grumpy old Irishman. He looked up at James form his desk chair. He rose slowly, “Henderson, I’ve had enough of this crap! Week after week all I get from you is third-rate garbage!” He turned around to his file cabinet, furiously flipping through worker files. He arrived at “Henderson” after a few seconds of his dramatic searching. “‘Retirement home backgammon tournament,’ ‘Kitten rescued from tree,’ ‘Pigeon migration patterns,’ need I go on? Every single story you’ve given me has been this bad or even worse! It’s embarrassing, and I can’t stand it anymore! You’re a smudge on the otherwise immaculate Main Street Inquirer reputation! Consider yourself fired!”
For once, James experienced a true feeling of shock. He expected a cut in pay or another rant. His stories never captivated many, but they still held validity is stories, nonetheless. “Mr. O’Brien, you can’t do-”
“What can’t I do? Last time I checked, this was newspaper, my empire of the press! I can do what I find best for the paper, and getting rid of your sorry ass is the best decision I’ve made in years! Now get out of my sight! You can pick up your last paycheck tomorrow.”
“You won’t even mail it to me?” James said, a tone of disgust becoming more and more noticeable in his voice. “When did you earn such luxuries?”
Suddenly, the monotony of James’ life sublimed into the smoky air that he had been inhaling. The void was filled with rage. A rage he hadn’t experienced in the past. It took his mild personality and warped it. Thoughts buzzed about in his mind, many different feelings and plans, irrational actions that would have indescribable repercussions. Rationality didn’t make a difference to him anymore, though. His overconfidence in his career’s ability to withstand his storm of failure led to this all time emotional low, and this low point could push him to do anything.

Oh em gee you be a good writer too? :'D

Well, intelligence and being good at writing come hand in hand so its no suprise B|

Its good. It was very smooth to start, a little cliche with the dream, but you grab the readers attention and I want to know what the girl was gonna say to him >:
The ending wasnt too bad, I was expecting worse considering what you said about it being late at night, I was just a little like "wtf" because its kind of like you just stopped mid-sentence and ran away.

I liked reading that. 8D