Three Minutes with Whiskers

Normanday #103: Thanks. I never think to get mice on my own.

Write for three minutes about…

…what the cat dragged in.

Email what you wrote to bigfootreads dot wernert at gmail dot com by the end of the day November 24 (put “Norman is a Top Notch Hula Hooper” 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 you see when you look out the window.

Tren Rewy Steb

Looking out the window is like watching a TV show without the sound. It’s my show. I decide what’s happening. I write the dialogue.

A man in a hat is talking to an old lady hunched around her giant blue purse. The hat is a disguise, but not a good one. She recognizes him.

“I told you, I don’t have it,” the old lady says. Wrinkled hands clutching purse straps, she turns away.

“Give me the bag, you old bag,” Hat Man says.

She turns back to him. She hesitates only a moment before opening the bag. She rummages through it. Looking for what? Pepper spray? A phone to call for help? The money she owes him—money she planned to take to the track?

It’s a slip of paper. A secret code. The name of a criminal. The number of a safe deposit box containing a formula for invisibility. A breath mint.

She hands him a breath mint.

He goes on his way. She goes on hers.

I change the channel to a more exciting show. In this one a dog chases an alien. The alien has disguised himself as a squirrel.