The Hot Day

The Hot Day

Papa had a stack of papers in front of him.

“It's hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk!” he said.

“Really?” Jesse asked.

“People just say that when it's really hot,” Sam explained.

“You boys keep yourselves busy while I finish this work,” Papa said.

“Then we'll do something fun together to cool off.”

It was too hot to ride bikes.

It was too hot to climb trees.

Sam sat on the floor of Papa's office and looked at baseball cards.

But Jesse left.

He came back a few minutes later.

“Actually,” said Jesse, “it isn't.”

“What isn't?” Sam asked.

“It isn't hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk,” Jesse said.

Papa looked up from his work.

“Did you try to do that?” he asked.

“Yes, but the egg just sat there.

It didn't cook.

It didn't even turn white around the edges,” Jesse said.

Papa looked at his stack of papers.

“I need to work just a little longer, boys, and I'll be done.”

“Show me the egg, Jesse,” Sam said.

As Sam and Jesse started to leave, Papa asked, “Are there any eggs left?”

“Two,” said Jesse.

“That should be enough,” Papa said.

“And Jesse, stay out of the refrigerator, all right?”

The egg had not changed a bit.

It looked like a yellow eye surrounded by goo.

“Can you think of a hotter place than this sidewalk?” asked Jesse.

“We could try again.”

Jesse held up the last two eggs.

“I had them in my pocket,” he said.

“I think Papa wants those eggs,” Sam said.

“You should put them back.”

“I can't put them back,” Jesse said.

“Papa said to stay out of the refrigerator.”

“I'll put them back, then,” said Sam.

“Come on.”

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