Mary Archer: I hope to live long and be happy. But I’d like to be remembered as somebody who did good rather than mischief.
The creative minds at our book club came up with eight little stories again yesterday. The two members who couldn’t make it will be disappointed when they read the short stories we wrote after discussing our book, All The Missing Girls.
Shannon, our hostess, had us start our short stories with the following prompt: summer memories. And away we went:
No. 1: I was sitting on the porch thinking about my high school years and I immediately started to sweat.
No. 2: I was so popular in high school, the girls hated me. They were so jealous. But now I’m president of the United States!
No. 1: Summer is the best time. It was the first time I got laid.
No. 2: That was awesome, but then I found out I was pregnant!
No. 1: I swung my legs over the edge of the wall and into the cool water. In the distance, I heard kids splashing on the beach.
No. 2: I leaned back, the sun warm on my face, thinking about a cool glass of lemonade. I leaned back further and oops! I fell off!
No. 1: The sun was blazing down on the brilliant water as I sat on the bow of the boat, legs dangling….
No. 2: And all these baby sharks swam up and started nibbling on my toes. I loved it!
No. 1: My dad gave me a buck to go to the five-and-dime to buy three ice cream cones. By the time I got home, they melted all down my arms.
No. 2: Mom took one look at me, shaking her head as she tried to hide her smile and told me to hit the pool and rinse off.
No. 1: Summer of ’75, I was a counselor for the camp kids. Another counselor hung Billy up by his t-shirt from a tree.
No. 2: I didn’t come forward immediately, but I did join a group standing up for Billy. Not a proud moment.
No. 1: One summer, I fell hard for my brother’s friend Al. He looked just like John Travolta. My heart beat fast…
No. 2: …as he joined the line-dance, his cowboy boots stomping on the floor. Too bad he was married.
No. 1: My favorite summer memory is playing with cousins in Grandpa’s yard. Then I fell over the clothesline pole and things changed.
No. 2: Breaking my leg made my summer swelteringly hot as I had to wear a full leg cast and could not swim, play, or get into mischief.
It seems that half of us like exclamation marks, and all of our summer memories involve some kind of mischief. What about you?