by Mike Thaler
THAT’S CALL, FOLKS
I sharpen my pencil and stack
my paper in a neat pile.
Let’s see—how do I start? Where
do I start? Starting is always hard.
I check my eraser—it works.
I sharpen my pencil again.
I straighten my paper again—I’m
ready to start writing. Suddenly
the phone rings. Oh joy, saved by
the bell.
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“Hello?”
“Hello. Who’s this?”
“Hubie.”
“Hubie who?”
“Hubie cool. Who’s this?”
“Gladys.”
“Gladys who?”
“Gladys Pinbottom. Any
messages?”
Click!
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CHAPTER 16
WAITING ON A LINE
Life is strange.
Back to the drawing board—or
the writing desk, to finish my
masterpiece. Well, actually, to
start it. Let’s see . . . where was
I, where am I, where do I want to
go?
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“It was the best of summers, it
was the worst of summers. . . .”
I read that beginning line some-
where. I think it was A Tale
of Two Cities—Cleveland and
Cincinnati.
I could borrow the line. Sort of
like recycling . . . but more like
stealing. Well, my eraser works.
I’m back to square one again.
I guess my ethics didn’t go to
camp.
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CHAPTER 17
A-MUSING
I’m getting pretty familiar with
square one. I just may spend my
whole summer in it. Wait! I have
an idea.
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“Once upon a time . . .” That’s a
good beginning. All the fairy tales
begin that way. I guess they don’t
mind recycling. It’s not stealing,
but it’s not original, either. I want
my story to be original, ’cause
I’m an original kind of guy.
Besides, my story is not a fairy
tale—it’s more like a nightmare.
CHAPTER 18
ON MY WAY!
I sharpen my pencil again. The
point wore down a little. Now it is
nice and sharp. I clean my eraser.
I straighten my paper . . . I’m
ready to roll. I can see it now: I
write a hit story, a classic. I sell the
movie rights, I go to Hollywood
openings, I meet lots of stars,
I win awards, I get an A in
English. All I have to do is start
it. Let’s see . . . “Well, it’s summer
vacation . . .”
That’s good—straightforward,
honest—I like it.
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It’s a good beginning. Then the
phone rings. I answer.
“Gladys isn’t here—you’ve got
the wrong number!”
“Hubie?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Eric!”
“Eric who?”
“Eric, your best friend.”
“I thought you were at camp.”
“It doesn’t start till next week.
What are you doing?”
“I’m writing a story about
summer vacation.”
“Are you busy?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want to ride our bikes
to the park and play, then go to
the movies, then sleep over at my
house . . . Hubie, are you there?”
“No! I’m on my way to your
house!”
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EPILOGUE
Well, I had a great summer.
When the library opened, I joined
the summer reading program. I
read lots of great books.
Eric’s camp was only two weeks
long and when he came back he
showed me a lot of cool baseball
stuff.
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Then, the rest of the kids got
back and we put on a magic show
and a play.
Mom took us all to the museum
and the water park.
It turned out to be the best
summer I ever had, and I even
found time to write this story.
I hope you like it.
www.scholastic.com
