So, there I am, hanging with the guys like I do all of the time, watching the game when Sid steps in front of the group and proposes a bet. We’re a competitive lot, so we pause the game to hear what’s up.

“Let’s see how creative you louts are.”

Well, that’s certainly uninspiring, I think.

“What’s the deal?” one of us asks.

He smiled.

“Nothing much. Just make a world…from scratch.”

There’s a general sigh of derision from the group. This is Sid’s least popular idea since the “eat your weight in rocks” contest.

“What’s the prize?” I ask.

“Bragging rights,” he shrugs. Everyone else who was vaguely interested tossed a handful of food at him and got up to hit the can. Not me, I’d never made a world before. Sounded fun.

“From scratch? No starting materials?” I inquire.

“Well, I’ll spot you a sun – I have an extra,” Sid responds.

I nod, already planning how great my new planet will look. Then I see Sid’s face and suspect a catch.

“Wait a minute,” I say, “how long do I have?”

Sid laughs.

“Seven days.”