The Adventures of Frankie – 8 – Wiggly Worm

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 earlier, 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.

“Cool!”

“Frankie, shake on it,” Dad commanded.

Through the open dining room windows, Frankie could just make out his mom talking to Paulette’s mother.

“FRANCIS!” Dad nearly ripped the screen door off the hinges.

Mom’s calm voice floated through the screens, “Is everything alright?”

“A-OK dear,” he controlled his volume then raced to his son’s side. Nearly whispering, “Your mom’s gonna kill you. Run quick and get four towels, old ones.”

Whenever Dad spoke, Frankie jumped to action. But with the impending wrath of Mom, he was out of the room like someone set his hair on fire. When he got back, Dad was up to his elbows keeping worm juice from spilling off the edge of the table.

“Roll’em up and stuff’em under the plastic bag. At least you thought of that.”

Before he had dumped the writhing pile onto Mom’s precious dining room table, Frankie did think about her reaction, although he expected to be finished long before his parents got home from their Saturday night date.

“What the ...!” Mom caught herself before finishing the vulgar expletive. Frankie had never heard his mom use foul language, now he knew he’d crossed the line.

“Now Annette,” Dad was doing his best to sound calm. “I know this looks bad, but he didn’t get any on the floor and this plastic bag was a great idea.”

Her jaw clinched and eyes widened at her husband who was about to soil a good dress shirt with worm guts.

Sensing that she was beginning to focus her accusation at him, he continued the defense of his oldest son’s actions as Frankie tucked the last towel in place. Frankie knew better than to open his mouth. He even avoided looking at his mom. Who knew, her eyes were probably ready to pop out of her head, or there was smoke coming out of her ears, maybe she was even growing fangs!

“The kid’s just trying to make enough money to buy a new bike. You can’t fault him for that.”

Mom stormed out of the room without another word. Frankie and Dad sorted worms in silence. A few minutes later Frankie did say, “Sorry Dad and thanks.”

Dad winked as he stuck his hand into the squirming pile for another handful of worms.

Mom walked in wearing the rattiest old clothes Frankie had ever seen her in. She finished tying a knot in her kitchen apron then slid out a chair across the table from her husband. Sitting down, she thought about reaching into the pile, then reconsidered. Getting back up she removed the apron and set it well out of the way of the goo. Back in her chair she adjusted her rubber gloves that nearly reached her elbows, squeezed her eyes closed, turned her head and reached for the pile of worms with a thumb and single finger extended. Holding up only one worm, probably the shortest and skinniest of them all, she asked, “Is this a night crawler?”

Dad was the first to let out a laugh. If Frankie had been drinking milk, it would have squirt out both nostrils. - Mom didn’t stop till she was crying.

On the way to the cafeteria Monday, Frankie told Scrawny Ronnie all about the five hundred and eighty two worms. “Tonight Dad’s taking me to see Mr. Geddes to collect my money.”

“Wow, you’re rich, five dollars and eighty-two cents.”

Frankie didn’t quite get Scrawny’s sarcasm.

“Not all of them are night crawlers,” he tried unsuccessfully to defend himself.

Ronnie was leaning back with a hand on his chin flashing a phony thoughtful look. “So, not even five dollars?”

Scrawny’s comment got him thinking, that’s a lot of work for not so much money. He was beginning to feel a bit foolish till he dug into his lunch bag. Included with the typical peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a handful of Oreo Double Stuff, Mom packed a baggie of wiggly gummy worms.