☼ wants to know.Can you write a little story that includes these " N " song titles?

Question:I'm going to go through the alphabet.
Nope. This is not homework...Just some wholesome ,creative FUN on YA.
1. Nobody I Know
2. Next To Me, Next To You
3. Nine To Five
4. Nothing I Can Do About It Now
5. Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)
6. Ninety Miles An Hour (Down A Dead End Street)

"Nobody I know is going to ask me to the dance, Mom!" I complained to my mother. "I'm sorry, honey, but I work the nine to five and there's nothing i can do about it now. How about we talk when I get back from work?" replied my mom without even a glance at me. My mom was never any help with boys or my problems, it was always HER ordeals. I mean, I'm the freakin' daughter! Isn't your mom supposed to help you when the chips are down?! So i did the only thing I could do: I called my best friend LouAnn and we went to a new movie called Norwegian Wood. It was something about Scandinavian construction workers in the 70's, but I really wasn't concerned about the movie at that point. Both LouAnn and I knew that the only reason I asked her to the movies was to devise a plan to sit next to get a boy to sit next to me in the café on Friday, the day of the dance (mainly so he could ask me). I started to reveal my ideas to LouAnn, "So, I was thinking that we should call Aaron's name and tell him we're, like, I don't know, taking a survey of all the...people...in school that...I don't know but let's just focus on calling his name for right now. Oh! Where's he going to sit? Next to me...next to you...? I mean I don't want to make it seem like I am eager or desperate, you know?" "Dana, that plan is like driving a car at ninety miles an hour down a dead end street. IT'S CRAZY! Let's just forget about boys for a while and just enjoy the single life," LouAnn totally dissed my plan.
Time has passed since I burned those old bridges and that old Norwegian wood. This bird has flown- and fallen; but I can still remember that night. I drove ninety miles an hour down a dead end street. All I could focus on were the thoughts of you that lingered in my head. Nobody I know makes me feel the way you do. With you I feel alive! I wish I had valued and listened to you, and just gotten that stupid nine to five. But I was young then. It al seems so shallow- Well, there's nothing I can do about it now. You're gone. All that remains is a long empty road... but even that ends; and a quiet painful air next to me- next to you.
There is NOBODY I KNOW in this small town that can party like us I said to Sarah. I mean NEXT TO ME & NEXT TO YOU who is left to have some fun? Everybody here works a full NINE TO FIVE shift and then they are all tired so I have cooked all of this food and bought all of this drink for the party for nothing as nobody is coming. To which Sarah Retorted well I did tell you to wait until the weekend and not have a midweek party. Oh well I thought, there is NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT NOW as I went to put more NORWEGIAN WOOD on the lovely burning open fire. Unbeknown to me, my best friend Sarah was already doing a runner from my so called party and as she was walking very fast out of the door she was thinking THIS BIRD HAS FLOWN this party and as I went to the window to see where she had gone to I saw her running, it looked almost like she was running at about NINETY MILES AN HOUR. shame for her I thought, as I walked right outside my front door and stood at the bottom of my garden watching her; this was the first time she had been to my new house and didn't know the area very welll she is soon to find out that she is going to have to come back past my house as she is running DOWN A DEAD END STREET.
Down Interstate 26, just west of Darfur, sits a cottage. Built of Norwegian Wood, it is a sturdy cottage that seems to stand as a testimonial to human strength and courage. It is the only cottage for miles and it is little known by those citizens of Darfur, or anyone else for that matter. Yet it is my home.

While the rest of humanity is up putting in their nine to five, wrecklessly doing ninety miles an hour in rush hour traffic, I sit in solitude with my mug of imported coffee, savoring my dreams of the night before. And you are with me.
There you sit, your face giving away your longing feelings. Your regret over the isolation you find yourself in. You are not grateful the way I am. You do not appreciate our separation from the madness that is life.
But there's nothing I can do about it now. It has simply been too long. Besides. Nobody I know can change their ways after time has left it's indelible mark. We get used to regret all the time. It is human nature. We cope, we sigh, we trudge on. Next to me, next to you joy never sits. Only contentment.
I sip on my coffee.
A bird flies by the window.
You sigh wistfully.
And we, like the cottage, age on.

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