Normanday #104: My cape is dry clean only.
Write for three minutes about…
…what it feels like to fly.
Email what you wrote to bigfootreads dot wernert at gmail dot com by the end of the day December 1 (put “Norman is Green, But Never With Envy” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old).
Here is the single entry from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…
…what the cat dragged in.
Lucky dragged it in. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly. It had fur and stringy bits that could have been whiskers or strands of dried up spaghetti. The only thing I was certain about was that it was dead. Lucky was proud of the dead thing. She placed it on the doorstep and stood next to it with her head held high and her chest thrust out as if she were waiting for me to pin a medal on her. I guess what she really wanted was a little appreciation. And isn’t that what you’re supposed to show when somebody brings you a gift, whether or not you like it? So I did. I thanked her and I made over the dead thing. Then I placed it in my curio cabinet along with all the other gifts the cat dragged in.