Mom and Dad’s car lights shined through the dining room windows. That’s when Frankie noticed the juice from the wiggling pile of worms headed for the edge of the table. He shot a hand to the line of liquid just before it dripped onto the floor. He wiped it back towards his first harvest from the golf course. Picking up a worm for inspection, he set it in a bin labeled “Night Crawlers.”
Night crawlers were the best; Mr. Geddes gave him a full penny for each of those big fat juicy suckers. All the rest he would only get half a penny. It wasn’t much but how else was a kid to earn money for a new bike. Good thing the guy at the golf course was letting Frankie collect worms there. His front yard had long been picked clean by him and Scrawny for their own fishing adventures.
Just a few days ago, Frankie’s dad took him to the bait shop in town to pick up some more hooks. Old man Geddes gave Frankie a handful of dog food to dump over the dock. Feeding those big cats was always a blast.
“This dog food’s cheap,” the old man growled as he looked down at the fifty or so catfish mouths opening and closing. “They like worms better.”
“The golf course is loaded with worms,” Frankie replied, “why don’tcha just go there at night? I’ll bet they’ll letcha.”
“That’s a good idea young man. Tell ya what,” Mr. Geddes glanced at Frankie’s dad for approval, “I’ll call the course and make sure it’s okay for you to collect the worms, then I’ll pay ya for um.”
Frankie’s head snapped around to his father who was already nodding.
“Frankie, shake on it,” Dad commanded.
Through the open dining room windows, Frankie could just make out his mom talking to Paulette’s mother.