Embritt Waters III, Em to his family and friends, awoke as the morning sun poured through his window. He sat up in his bed and looked out beyond the thick live oak limbs at the streets of Ocean Springs. Not a single car was moving down the tree-lined street; not a person was visible strolling down the old brick sidewalks. He could just flop right back down on his bed for at least another hour and no one would care. No one except for Aunt Birdie, who at that very instant had begun to hammer on Ems door as if there was a great catastrophe sweeping through the small town.
Em, get out of bed this instant! Aunt Birdie fumed. It is already six thirty, and the doors must be open by a quarter to eight!
Em could not count how many times he had heard those exact words. He knew that Pinkersons Pharmacy and Sundries opened at a quarter to eight, Monday through Saturday. After all, he had been working there for almost a year now. And it was not that he had to travel a great distance to the store it was right underneath him on the first floor of the building. The Pinkersons had lived in the top floor for generations. The old brick building had stood in the center of Ocean Springs for so long that the surrounding live oaks seemed to prop it up with their enormous twisting branches.
Im getting dressed now, Aunt Birdie! Em said, and then in a whisper, just as I always tell you when you are trying to beat my door down!
Well then, be getting a move on it! Punctuality equals customers, and customers equal profits!
Em waited until he could hear Aunt Birdies heavy footsteps fading down the hallway before reaching for his clothes. He pulled on his surfing trunks and tee shirt without getting out of bed. Then he grabbed his cap, his favorite blue one with the winged surfboard patch on the front of it, and slapped it on his unruly hair.
Now where did my sandals get off to? Em asked himself as he swung around and peeped up under his bed. He had to push back quite a few discarded clothes and other miscellaneous objects before he could be sure that they werent there. This was not good; he could easily loose a point or two in Aunt Birdies Notebook of Points Earned and Lost.
Ugh! Em said as he flipped out of the bed onto the floor.
Em readjusted his hat and peeped out into the hallway no sandals there. He tip toed down the hall to the bathroom and looked around the clothes hamper. The sandals werent there either, but he did find a sock on the floor behind the hamper, which he quickly retrieved and tossed inside, hopefully avoiding another subtracted point.
Em, please come and get your nasty sandals out from under the table! Aunt Birdie called from the dining room. Not a good way to start the morning already lost one point, no, make that two for a carelessly misplaced sock!
Em felt his body grow heavy as he walked into the dining room.
Aunt Birdie gave Em a sideways glance as she pointed toward the sandals. You are well aware of the rules that Mr. Pinkerson and I have established for your behaviors. Neatness and punctuality are both in need of your attention. She took the Notebook of Points Earned and Lost- which was always kept close at hand June 12th, minus two!
Uncle Royce popped through the door. He was a large man, ever smelling of the strong scented hair tonic that he used to flatten his sparse, wavy hair. Even though Uncle Royce was Ems mothers older brother, there wasnt the faintest family resemblance. Ems mother was petite and good-natured. Uncle Royce was grouchy and completely devoid of humor.
What? Two points taken already! Em, I am disappointed! Mrs. Pinkerson and I have taken it upon ourselves to raise you as an upright and responsible young man. You must strive to do better! What is his standing, Mrs. Pinkerson?
Aunt Birdie worked her pencil. Eighteen points gained, seventy-three lost.
Uncle Royce paused as he struggled with the math. Well, that puts you quite a ways into the minus column, Em. A promise to do better?
Ill try hard, sir, Em said flatly.
Uncle Royce straightened his white pharmacists coat. Good, then we should all sit down and enjoy Mrs. Pinkersons oatmeal before charging into another busy day. What is our business strategy for the day, Mrs. Pinkerson?
Em hated the way that they addressed one another as Mr. and Mrs. Pinkerson. He wanted to suggest that they should lighten up, but he dared not with the dreaded notebook so close by - perhaps if they had had children of their own.
Aunt Birdie pushed her glasses down so that they pinched her nostrils and pulled another smaller notebook out of her apron pocket. Three deliveries for Em, an expected shipment of novelty goods, and a new sales campaign for cosmetics. Our thought for the day shall be, SMILE FOR PROFITS.
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