The Name’s Tucker—Owen, Tucker

   Hey.  My name’s Owen (if you couldn’t figure that from the title), and this is what I guess you could call my journal.  I have a pretty extraordinary life, if I do say so myself, the facts of which may sometimes be hard to believe, but are all completely true.  Everything you read here will be honest to goodness truth about me, Owen Tucker, and my world.  Whether you believe this or not is your call.  I’m just putting the facts down here and now for historical documentation.  I will not be held accountable for any and all embellishments, because, I mean come on, a story’s gotta have some flavor to make it interesting.  Just putting down facts would make this as boring as Washington’s diaries.  Check this out.
   5/17/12:  Went for walk.  Found cool rock.  Spoke with squirrel.  Went home.
   How boring was that?  And it was just a few fragments.  Imagine a whole blog post like that.  Not cool.  I hope you’ll concede this point and grant me the leeway to add my own spices.  It will all be the same, none of the facts will be changed, but it’ll have my spin, with my viewpoint (because obviously I can’t give you the rock’s viewpoint).
   So, without further ado, I present to you the Chronicles of Owen Tucker.

   5/17/12:  On this date (that being the fifth of May in the year 2012) I decided it was too nice of a day not to take a walk.  So I took a walk.  It really was a beautiful day.  Sunny with some puffy white clouds and a nice cool breeze rustling the vibrant green leaves of the trees.  Gorgeous. 
   Anyway, I was walking down a street in my neighborhood (and a very nice neighborhood it is, I might add) when I happened upon a rock.  Now you’re probably thinking “So what?  There are rocks all over the place”, but this rock was no ordinary rock.  Well, okay, it looked exactly like an ordinary rock.  Small, grayish-black, and rough.  However, from my long experience with many types of rocks I knew that this rock in particular was no ordinary rock.
   Why do I get the feeling that you still don’t believe me?  Didn’t I say up top there that everything herein would be the honest to goodness truth?  Indeed I did.  So you’d better believe it.
   Still no?  Okay, fine.  I didn’t know the rock was not an ordinary rock I just thought it looked kinda cool so I picked it up and stuck it in my pocket.  There.  Happy now?
   Moving on with my story (which your disbelief so rudely interrupted), after I picked up the rock, I continued walking for a ways, turned down a few different streets, and found myself on a street I had never been on before.  No, actually I had been there the day before, but saying I had never been there before sounds more dramatic, wouldn’t you say?  It doesn’t really matter anyway, since the street itself has no significance.  The significant thing was the squirrel.  It was sitting on one of those nice, stone mailboxes twitching its tail and looking all fuzzy and cute.
   As I came near to it, it twitched its nose.
   “Haha, human.  Slow and no climb.”
   I looked around at the sound of the voice, but there wasn’t anyone else in sight.
   “Who’s there?” I asked.
   “Hehe.  Human talk to self now.  Scared of own shadow too.”
   “I am not,” I protested, still looking around for the voice.
   “Whoa.  Human reply.  That never happen before.”
   I heard a scampering and turned to see the squirrel leap off the mailbox, shoot up a tree, and disappear.  I stared after it.  There was no way that squirrel had been talking.  Everyone knows squirrels can’t talk, right?
   Well, whether the squirrel talked or not, the cool breeze had died in that interval, and now the sun was plain hot so I started walking back home. 
   The moral of this story is that weird stuff can happen on walks.  Be prepared.

   To be continued…probably…