strode up to the first house—an immaculate little ranch house—and rang the bell. An old woman with pink foam rollers all over her head came and peeked out the window.
“Who are you people?” she yelled through the closed door at us. “What do you want?”
I smiled like I didn’t have good sense. “Hello! We’re selling candy bars on behalf of—”
“I don’t want none!” she yelled. “Get off my porch!”
“Okay!” I hollered back. “Thanks for your time!”
We walked off the porch, and I looked at Sunny. “What a goon.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Still, I guess she was scared. I mean, she didn’t know us or anything.”
“Well, I know that, but you couldn’t ask for any two nicer looking people than me and you.”
“True, but we’re leading a monstrosity of a dog.”
I turned down the corners of my mouth. “You’ve got a point.”
“Where’d you get all these candy bars?”
“At the grocery store. Bought ten six packs . . . figure I should be able to about break even that way.”
By this time, we were at the next house. It was a split-level and its yard was filled with little plastic ride-ons and toys. We might have better luck here if Hysterical-Pink-Roller-Head hadn’t called the cops on us yet.
A young, tired-looking woman with a baby on her hip answered the door. “Mom” was wearing gray sweatpants and a tee shirt that might’ve been white at one time or another. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, but right now it was half up and half down. As much as I hated to ask this woman for anything, I had to have some excuse for knocking on her door.
“Hello,” I said, “we’re trying to raise a little money for the animal shelter. Would you like to purchase some candy bars?”
“What kind have you got?”
I peered into the box. “Looks like we still have a little bit of everything. Would you like to see for yourself?”
She nodded toward Matlock. “He bite?”
“No, he’s a doll. In fact, we got him at the shelter.”
“Really? Aw, how nice.” She stepped out onto the porch. “Are you a good boy?” she asked, patting Matlock’s head.
He panted up at her, prompting her to tell the baby, “Look, Charlie. See the pretty doggie?” She peeped into the box and then called over her shoulder, “Kids, come pick you out a candy bar! And bring my pocketbook off the kitchen table!”
After what sounded like a stampede inside the house, three children under the age of seven burst out of the house. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep hold of the box and to remain standing. I could see why their mother looked exhausted. Within seconds, twelve little hands grasped about half the candy bars in the box. Wisely, Sunny took Matlock off the porch. He was a good-natured animal, but who knew how well he could take a riot?
“Did anyone bring me my pocketbook?” the woman asked. Not seeing it, she answered her own question. “No.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “It appears you’ve more than got your hands full. Why don’t I give each of the children a candy bar, and you just promise me that you’ll consider the animal shelter the next time you’re in the market for a pet.” As if she needed something else to vie for her attention and clean up after; but, hey, maybe she was a glutton for punishment.
“That’s awfully nice of you,” she began, “but—”
“But nothing. Take it as a gift from one mom to another.”
She smiled. “Is she your only one?”
“My only granddaughter!” I laughed. “Say, did you know Flora Adams? I think she lived in this neighborhood.”
“Yeah. They live right next door . . . her and her husband. I don’t know either of them very well—just to speak is all.” She frowned slightly. “They keep to themselves. In fact, I hardly ever see either one of them . . . and come to think of it I’ve never seen the two of
“Who are you people?” she yelled through the closed door at us. “What do you want?”
I smiled like I didn’t have good sense. “Hello! We’re selling candy bars on behalf of—”
“I don’t want none!” she yelled. “Get off my porch!”
“Okay!” I hollered back. “Thanks for your time!”
We walked off the porch, and I looked at Sunny. “What a goon.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Still, I guess she was scared. I mean, she didn’t know us or anything.”
“Well, I know that, but you couldn’t ask for any two nicer looking people than me and you.”
“True, but we’re leading a monstrosity of a dog.”
I turned down the corners of my mouth. “You’ve got a point.”
“Where’d you get all these candy bars?”
“At the grocery store. Bought ten six packs . . . figure I should be able to about break even that way.”
By this time, we were at the next house. It was a split-level and its yard was filled with little plastic ride-ons and toys. We might have better luck here if Hysterical-Pink-Roller-Head hadn’t called the cops on us yet.
A young, tired-looking woman with a baby on her hip answered the door. “Mom” was wearing gray sweatpants and a tee shirt that might’ve been white at one time or another. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, but right now it was half up and half down. As much as I hated to ask this woman for anything, I had to have some excuse for knocking on her door.
“Hello,” I said, “we’re trying to raise a little money for the animal shelter. Would you like to purchase some candy bars?”
“What kind have you got?”
I peered into the box. “Looks like we still have a little bit of everything. Would you like to see for yourself?”
She nodded toward Matlock. “He bite?”
“No, he’s a doll. In fact, we got him at the shelter.”
“Really? Aw, how nice.” She stepped out onto the porch. “Are you a good boy?” she asked, patting Matlock’s head.
He panted up at her, prompting her to tell the baby, “Look, Charlie. See the pretty doggie?” She peeped into the box and then called over her shoulder, “Kids, come pick you out a candy bar! And bring my pocketbook off the kitchen table!”
After what sounded like a stampede inside the house, three children under the age of seven burst out of the house. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep hold of the box and to remain standing. I could see why their mother looked exhausted. Within seconds, twelve little hands grasped about half the candy bars in the box. Wisely, Sunny took Matlock off the porch. He was a good-natured animal, but who knew how well he could take a riot?
“Did anyone bring me my pocketbook?” the woman asked. Not seeing it, she answered her own question. “No.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “It appears you’ve more than got your hands full. Why don’t I give each of the children a candy bar, and you just promise me that you’ll consider the animal shelter the next time you’re in the market for a pet.” As if she needed something else to vie for her attention and clean up after; but, hey, maybe she was a glutton for punishment.
“That’s awfully nice of you,” she began, “but—”
“But nothing. Take it as a gift from one mom to another.”
She smiled. “Is she your only one?”
“My only granddaughter!” I laughed. “Say, did you know Flora Adams? I think she lived in this neighborhood.”
“Yeah. They live right next door . . . her and her husband. I don’t know either of them very well—just to speak is all.” She frowned slightly. “They keep to themselves. In fact, I hardly ever see either one of them . . . and come to think of it I’ve never seen the two of
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