Three Minutes of Regret

Normanday #41: Next year I’ll savor it more.

Summer vacation is winding to an end. You stayed up late, slept in, and played video games in between. You did a lot of other stuff, too, but you have some regrets. Write for three minutes about…

…the things you planned to do this summer but never got around to.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day August 19 (put “Norman Always Seizes the Day” 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). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to…

…tell me a lie.

Cranberly

“Hi! Did you meet my friend? He’s from Mars. Seriously. You know that Curiosity rover they sent to Mars? Well, it found this guy. Or girl. It's hard to tell. They sent him (or her) back right away and left the rover there to find more. Unfortunately, the spaceship they sent him (I’m just going to refer to him as a male from now on. Is that okay?) crashed on the way back to Earth. I found him on the side of the road. He was pretending to hitchhike. I think he has done an excellent job of blending into Earth culture. I mean…he changed his skin tone from green to this lovely shade of brown. He grew hair. He learned our language. Found clothes. I mean, I wonder where he learned this stuff? I bet he went to a farm first and took the people hostage while he somehow transferred their knowledge into his brain and then he killed them and stole their clothes. You would think I would be scared of stopping, picking him up in my truck, and bringing him to this gas station. But, I know what’s good for the Earth. I know we need to learn so much from these Martians. I mean, they could have some really good information about how to save the planet. Plus…I carry a baseball bat behind the seat of my truck…so I am pretty sure I could have gave him a good whack in the head if he tried anything. He doesn't say much, does he? I imagine he only had a limited time to steal our language from those farm folks. So he’s quiet. But you gotta be careful not to tell him too much…just in case he isn't here to help us and our great planet Earth. I mean, maybe he is here on a covert spy mission from Mars. Maybe he is staying so quiet because he is information gathering to take back to his people…um…fellow Martians. I make sure that anything I say can’t be used against us. Not that I am one to talk myself. I mean, sure…it gets lonely on the road and sometimes you just drive and drive, talking to yourself, making up stories to keep yourself from going crazy…but I know when to be quiet. I know when not to give too much away. That’s why I am leaving him here. I know some pretty important stuff and I want to make sure this guy doesn’t take it from me. You all have a nice day. And you, Martian, beep boop graw graw goopy…or whatever ‘have a nice day’ is in Martian. And you’re welcome.”

“Hi. My name is John. My car broke down on the side of the road a few miles back. This man was kind enough to give me a ride. You wouldn’t happened to have a tow truck? And perhaps someone else can give me a ride back to my car? That guy’s crazy.”

Bigfoot

I’ve won every game of checkers I’ve ever played. In fact, I’m so good that I was consulted by the International Checkers Association recently and asked if I would be their president. At first I was really interested because every president of the International Checkers Association gets a Rolls-Royce and a lifetime supply of chocolate chip cookies. But then they told me that being the president of the ICA means I can’t compete in the tournaments. So I turned them down, which was a good thing because the next day I got a call from the Intergalactic Penny Hockey Association asking me to be president. I’ve always dreamed of being president of the IPHA. I’d tell you all the perks, but you’d never believe me.