Assuming we’d be stranded together on this island, we each chose five things:
- As many cases of Diet Coke as our life raft could carry. I cannot live without this beverage!
- A solar powered DVD player (assuming Netflix is not an option) and a boxed set of all nine seasons of The Office. It’s the only show I never get sick of watching.
- All the books I’ve purchased in the past few months that I haven’t had a chance to read yet. My pile is growing and growing; yet I keep buying new books!
- A stack of notepads and pens (assuming a laptop isn’t an option either) for writing the sequel to Labors of an Epic Punk!
- I would have to bring Jeff Probst (although he might not be too thrilled by this!) After 36 seasons of filming Survivor—one of my favorite shows—Jeff should know everything there is to know about how to stay alive on a desert island!
6. A harmonica. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the harmonica; I even took lessons a few years ago, but then I never kept it up. What better time to practice? (Besides, a harmonica is more portable than, say, a cello.)
7. A kickball—or some all-purpose ball. This isn’t a Wilson homage. I just feel that it might be nice to have a ball, to pass the time. Also, I didn’t start playing pick-up basketball until I was in my 40s, so this might be a good time to master my jump shot.
8. A copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Or as I like to call it, One Hundred Years of Reading. No kidding: a friend gave me this book in 1994, and I have yet to finish it. I’ve started it about seventeen times, but then I put it down…and don’t pick it up again for five years, which means I have to start over again.
9. Soap and/or toothpaste. Look, if it’s just me on the island…who cares how I smell, right? But if Sheri and I are there together, we’ll want to stay hygienically pleasing.
10. All 34 WrestleManias on DVD (if Sheri is going to bring her solar-powered DVD player…)
Labors of an Epic Punk
by Mark and Sheri Dursin
GENRE: YA Fantasy, Myth Retelling
Mac is an epic punk. No wonder: after his dad went off to fight in the Trojan War and never came back, Mac spent his childhood evading his mom's scumbag suitors—all one-hundred-and-eight of them. Of course, he turned out this way—a moody, friendless sixteen-year-old who blows off work, alienates everyone at school, and pulls pranks. But when he trains a flock of birds to defecate on the headmaster, Mac (short for Telemachus) goes too far. The administrators give him an ultimatum: prove that he's truly the son of Odysseus by doing something heroic—or get out. A school story that just so happens to take place 3,000 years ago, Labors of an Epic Punk is a tale of friendship and transformation, regret and redemption, and a reminder to us all that even heroes need to survive adolescence.
No one on the field that morning had any idea that all Hades was about to break loose.
Well, one person did.
The stands were over-crammed with students, all chirping away about their summer travels, each one trying to out-fabulous the other. But Mac wasn’t talking to any of them. (No surprise there.) Instead, he just stared at the empty stage in fist-clenching anticipation. For the entire morning, the entire summer, the entire two years he’d wasted at this gods-forsaken school, he’d been waiting for this moment. His moment of glory, of genius. The moment when he’d finally and irretrievably cross The Line— that hard-to-define boundary between tolerable and intolerable. Between a week of detention and expulsion. All he needed was for Headmaster Gurgus to blow on that shell.
Just when he thought he couldn’t wait any longer without throwing up, Mac heard the band play the opening notes to “Yielding Never,” Pieridian Academy’s absurdly overblown fight song. The Opening Ceremonies were officially underway. From his seat high up in the stands, Mac watched intently as the members of the so-called Grand Procession marched onto Garthymedes Field: the entire faculty and staff, wearing shiny red gowns and smiles full of phony reverence; followed by the honored students, also in ritualistic red, condescendingly waving at the crowd; followed by a grotesque, nine-headed Hydra.
Lastly, waddling ten paces behind the Hydra, in all his roly-poly, four-hundred pound glory, was Headmaster Gurgus.
AUTHOR Bio and Links
For many years Mark, a high school English teacher, and Sheri, a freelance writer and blogger, wrote independently. No matter the writing project—newspaper articles, retreat talks, college recommendation letters, fan-fiction, blog posts on spirituality or 80s pop songs—they tended to work alone. Separate rooms, separate computers. But raising their twin sons helped them discover an important truth: All Good Things Come in Twos.
a Rafflecopter giveaway