Story: Chuckie Chamberlain Plans to Have the Best Weekend Ever
By Jeff Williams
Thursday. Morning.
The first weekend of spring is almost here.
Chuckie Chamberlain, grade 4, is going to get the most out of it.
To get the most out of a thing takes planning.
Careful planning.
Lots of careful planning.
You need a notebook, sharp pencils, and at least one large eraser.
Chuckie Chamberlain knows this.
He plans to have the best weekend ever.
Thursday. All day.
Chuckie Chamberlain thinks about all the things he will do to have the best weekend ever.
Thursday. Evening.
Chuckie Chamberlain writes his list.
Ride bike up Third Street Hill without stopping. Build a wildlife lookout in the woods. Practice kick-flips on his skateboard for at least 30 minutes or until he can successfully achieve one. Join his dad and mom and Jane for family game night on Friday night. Read the new Captain Karnage comic. Go to Mari Parmalee's birthday party Sunday afternoon at the skate park. Teach his sister how to make apple pie. Go to the slumber-party-and-zombie-movie-marathon at Fred Frick’s house on Saturday. Play flag football with his friends. Make SOP for SFB (Stack of Pancakes for Saturday Family Breakfast). Go to the Welcome to Spring Hullabaloo parade on Main Street on Saturday at noon to support Mari Parmalee, No. 3 flag carrier. Jump off the low bridge at Lake Serene. Find out how to get the bravery to jump off stuff. Beat his high score in Road Race 9000. Build the model rocket he got for his birthday. Launch the rocket, but not toward Mr. Jorgenson’s next door. Watch one great movie on the great-movies-to-watch list his friend Matt B. gave him. Practice "Louie Louie" on his saxophone until he can play it all the way through without messing up too much. Make an apple pie for Mr. Jorgenson. Make another apple pie for himself. Record himself playing "Louie Louie." Send the recording to Mari Parmalee for her happy birthday gift.
Chuckie Chamberlain studies his list. “Hmm,” he says. “How can I do everything?”
It’s a puzzle. Some things have to happen at certain times, like SOP for SFB.
Some things have to happen before other things, like practicing "Louie, Louie" before recording it before sending it.
Some things depend on other people, like flag football.
Some things he can do anytime, like read Captain Karnage.
He yawns.
Tomorrow he will plan it all.
He is going to have the best weekend ever.
Friday. Before School.
“I can’t walk to school with you,” Chuckie Chamberlain says to Fred Frick. “I’m planning to have the best weekend ever.”
He writes and erases, arranges and rearranges, scribbles and scritches and scratches.
Which tree can he build the wildlife lookout in? Does he have enough lumber? Will Dad let him borrow the hammer?
Friday. At school.
“I can’t play with you,” Chuckie Chamberlain says to Mari Parmalee. “I’m planning to have the best weekend ever.”
He writes and erases. Arranges and rearranges.
When to launch the rocket? Does he have enough rocket fuel?
Friday. After school.
“I can’t walk home with you,” Chuckie Chamberlain says to Matt B. “I’m planning to have the best weekend ever.”
He scribbles, erases. Scritches and scratches.
What can he practice jumping off?
Friday. Afternoon.
When Chuckie Chamberlain gets home, his plans aren’t finished.
He writes and erases, erases and writes.
Arranges.
Rearranges.
Friday. Evening.
Chuckie Chamberlain's dad sees him working, brings him dinner, and says "Come down when you're ready for game night."
"Mmpff," Chuckie grunts, not lifting his head. He plans and plans.
Evening deepens.
Scribble.
Scribble.
Scribble.
At last he finishes.
Chuckie dashes downstairs, ready to have the best weekend ever.
Friday. Night.
It’s 11 o'clock. Everyone's asleep.
There's a note on the kitchen counter.
Saw you were busy so we let you be. Love Mom and Dad. And Jane.
Chuckie Chamberlain trudges back to his room.
"I can still have the best weekend ever," he says, rubbing his eyes. "I'll get up early tomorrow and make a new plan."
Saturday. Early.
Chuckie Chamberlain gets up at 5 o’clock to make his new plan.
Writing, arranging. Scribbling, scratching. Erasing, rearranging.
At 8 o’clock he finishes.
The 8 o’clock item on his list is Stack of Pancakes for Saturday Family Breakfast.
When he comes into the kitchen, Jane has already made the SOP. “For you,” she sings. “I got up early.”
Chuckie sighs. He eats pancakes. He eats lots of pancakes. After SFB, he's full and suddenly very sleepy.
Chuckie Chamberlain plods back to his room, flumps down on the bed, and falls asleep.
Until after lunchtime.
Saturday. After lunchtime.
Chuckie Chamberlain doesn’t practice “Louie, Louie” on his saxophone until he can play it all the way through without messing up too much.
He doesn’t ride his bike up Third Street Hill without stopping.
He doesn’t build a wildlife lookout in the woods.
He misses the Welcome to Spring Hullabaloo parade and Mari Parmalee, No. 3 flag carrier.
“That’s okay,” he tells himself. “It’s still going to be the best weekend ever. I just have to plan harder.”
He makes a new plan.
Write, write, write. Erase, erase, erase.
He may not have as much time for some things, but he can still do them all. Well, not the parade.
And he may have to build a smaller wildlife lookout. And only practice kick-flips for 15 minutes.
Saturday. Afternoon.
Scribble, scribble, scribble.
Jane interrupts him. “Can you help me make my dinosaur diorama?”
Hmm. Chuckie hasn't planned for this. "Okay," he sighs.
An hour later, he goes back to his planning.
Scribble, scribble.
His mom interrupts him. "Can you help me wash the car?"
Hmm. Chuckie hasn't planned for this either. "Okay," he sighs.
An hour later, he goes back to his planning.
Scribble.
His dad interrupts him. "Can you help me put together the bookshelf?"
Hmm. Chuckie hasn't planned for this. "Okay," he sighs.
An hour later, he goes back to his planning.
Afternoon deepens.
Saturday. Evening.
Chuckie’s mom sees him working, brings him dinner, and says, "Come down when you're ready to go to the slumber party."
"Mmpff," grunts Chuckie Chamberlain, not lifting his head. He plans and plans.
Evening deepens.
Scribble. Scratch. Erase. Repeat. Arrange. Rearrange.
At last he finishes.
Chuckie dashes downstairs, ready to have the best weekend ever.
Saturday. Night.
It's 11 o'clock. Everyone's asleep.
There’s a note on the kitchen counter.
Saw you were busy so we let you be. Love Mom and Dad. And Jane.
Chuckie Chamberlain slogs back to his room.
“I can still have the best weekend ever,” he says, rubbing his eyes.
As he falls asleep, he feels like there’s something he forgot to plan.
Sunday. Morning.
When he wakes up, he remembers.
He hasn’t planned for Unplanned Things.
Like dioramas and car washes and putting together bookshelves.
And natural disasters.
Chuckie Chamberlain makes a list of natural disasters.
Blizzard. Hurricane. Drought. Flooding. Tornado. Earthquake. Tsunami. Sinkhole. Windstorm. Avalanche. Volcano. Hail the size of shot puts.
He writes and erases.
Where's his snow suit? Are the umbrellas hail-proof? Is the house bolted down?
WHAT’S THE VOLCANO PLAN?!
Sunday. All day.
Chuckie Chamberlain plans.
And plans.
And plans.
And plans.
He can still have the best weekend ever.
Sunday. Night.
At last he finishes.
Chuckie dashes downstairs, sprints out to the front yard, and shouts, "I'm ready for the best weekend ever!"
It's dark.
Chuckie Chamberlain blinks up at the stars. Blink-blink. “But … " he says, “this was not the plan.”
His mom and dad call him inside. "Time for bed, Chuckie. The weekend’s over."
Chuckie slumps inside.
Sunday. Bedtime.
His mom and dad tuck him in.
Chuckie Chamberlain remembers something. Maybe he can at least do one thing that was on his list.
“Mom and Dad …” he says. “How do you get the bravery to jump off stuff? What’s the plan?”
His dad kisses his forehead. “There is no plan.”
His mom kisses his forehead. “You just jump.”
The next weekend.
Chuckie Chamberlain doesn't make any plans at all.
He just jumps.
And has the best weekend ever.
Listen to “Chuckie Chamberlain Plans to Have the Best Weekend Ever,” read by Jeff.