After the whole lunch break fiasco, I managed to track down Georgie wandering the crowded hallways. I successfully convinced him to skip the last few periods of the day, a proposition he was more than happy to accept.
We just had to make absolutely sure we were back on the school campus by 1:30 in the afternoon.
If Georgie was late for afternoon football practice, Dad would definitely kick his ass in front of the entire team without a moment of hesitation.
We immediately left the school grounds and headed straight downtown to get our official municipal permits and business licenses sorted out at the local town administration office.
The official paperwork ended up costing us roughly thirty dollars altogether. However, it meant we would not have to worry about grumpy assholes calling the police on us later in the month for soliciting.
After paying those hefty municipal fees upfront, I am finally starting to understand exactly why professional painters charge ten dollars a house just to turn a decent profit.
Next, I got Georgie to drive us over to the local print shop to get some custom advertisement flyers made for the surrounding neighborhoods. We decided to have our new business ad printed directly onto a thick, heavy card stock, which unfortunately ended up being our biggest operational expense for this entirely new venture.
The design we chose was remarkably simple but highly effective. The heavy card featured a nice little hole punched in the top corner with a cheap rubber band threaded right through it.
We planned to drop these advertisements directly into the mailboxes of the homes around our specific target neighborhoods during the upcoming week to drum up some serious business.
If the homeowner actually wanted their curb numbers freshly painted, they just wrote a simple yes on the back of the card and hung it from their front doorknob the very next morning.
I would then walk down the street, easily spot the hanging card from the sidewalk, and collect the cash directly from the interested owner before starting the actual labor.
After collecting the initial payment, I would carefully write down exactly when I would complete the painting work in my dedicated ledger notebook before moving on to the next house on the block.
Carrying a proper notebook and a pen made me look highly organized and incredibly serious to the adult customers. I did not actually need the notebook because of my memory, but I just liked to write things down.
At the busy print shop, Georgie and the store owner spent a solid thirty minutes discussing exactly what the process for ordering the printed material would actually be.
Meanwhile, I was busy going through all of the glossy paper brochures on the counter to figure out exactly what kind of physical material we wanted to use for the flyers.
By the time we finally finished looking at the various sample materials, we had a very clear estimate of how much it would cost to print a thousand heavy stock cards with our advertisement printed clearly on the front. The absolute minimum they would print for a custom order was five hundred units.
Since the actual cost difference between printing five hundred and a thousand cards was surprisingly small, I decided it was financially best to go big and maximize our outreach.
The friendly shop owner even told us that punching the small hole in the corner of every single card could be done completely for free, which was a nice bonus.
The printer guy strongly suggested that we use standard string rather than a rubber band to hang the cards on the residential doors, claiming it looked much more professional.
However, Georgie smoothly convinced the man that we should definitely stick to using simple rubber bands because they were cheap, fast to attach, and highly familiar to absolutely everyone.
We ended up spending exactly forty dollars on the printed cards alone, and we still had to buy more cans of paint for the actual jobs later. That unexpected expenditure was a massive blow to our overall budget.
We had just completely blown through all of our hard earned weekend money in a matter of hours. We both used almost everything that we had managed to earn.
I pulled Georgie aside right outside the shop doors to explain our grim financial situation before we started heading back to the parked truck.
"Well, we are officially broke again, Georgie," I told him flatly, showing him the completely empty cash envelope. "The permits and the printing costs completely wiped out absolutely everything we managed to earn on Sunday."
Georgie threw his hands in the air "Oh man. Are you telling me I cannot even buy a decent burger right now?"
"I know it sucks right now," I explained calmly, holding my hands up in a placating gesture. "But you have to remember that money begets money. This is an investment in our future. Once we distribute these thousand cards, the incoming jobs will easily make us earn so much more."
Georgie grumbled loudly under his breath, violently kicking a loose rock across the sidewalk in pure frustration. "Fine, I understand, genius. But if this does not work out, I am taking your entire allowance for the month."
We officially ordered the massive stack of cards, which the shop owner promised would be completely ready for pickup by Friday afternoon. That was the day for the homecoming football game.
We then rushed back to the high school just in time for the afternoon football practice. I honestly thought nobody even noticed we were gone for those few hours.
It was fairly normal for average kids to bunk school on occasion. But it was incredibly rare for us since our dad was a coach in the exact same school.
So we did not have the luxury to do it very often. Maybe it was for the best, since Georgie would probably bunk most days if he could get away with it.
While Georgie was out sweating through football practice, I went straight to my personal haven, the library. It was the absolute best place to find some peace, and I started reading a storybook. Taking it slowly and with leisure really helps me relax my hyperactive mind. In my last life I was a binge watcher of tv shows and anime.
I never really read books. I regret it now since I could have plagiarised the shit out of them here if I knew. Easy money.
We eventually went home with Dad in his truck after his long practice finally concluded. As soon as I walked through the front door and dropped my heavy backpack, I immediately called for Georgie.
I told him we needed to hit the pavement right away. We both started walking down the street, asking around the neighborhood if anyone wanted their curb numbers freshly painted.
We only had a few precious hours of daylight left before the sun finally went down. Despite the rushing, we still managed to secure and successfully complete four different painting jobs. Since they already saw us working last weekend. Most people who were hesitant before were okay with it now.
Earning that quick cash instantly made me feel a whole lot better about our empty budget. I genuinely do not like the vulnerable feeling of having completely empty pockets.
We finally got back home right as it was getting late for dinner. The sun had already fully set beneath the horizon, casting dark shadows across the yard. We both were completely covered in dirt, sweat, and faint flecks of spray paint after the rushed evening work.
I told Georgie to quickly drop the painting supplies near the side of the garage, and then we both quietly entered the house.
Mom immediately started scolding us the second we stepped foot inside the kitchen. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the linoleum. "You boys know exactly how late it is right now," she reprimanded sharply. "Charlie, Georgie, go wash your filthy hands this instant and join the rest of us for dinner."
Everyone was already sitting comfortably in the dining room with their plates. Dad looked up from his meal and casually asked what we were doing out so late in the dark.
I replied honestly, explaining that we were just doing some honest work. I told him we were painting curb numbers on neighborhood houses for some extra pocket money.
Dad was surprisingly perfectly okay with that explanation. He just nodded and said okay, clearly appreciating it. Since he believed it gave character to young people to work for money.
But of course, Sheldon had to open his mouth and be a little snitch. "Why were you two not in school after the lunch period ended today?" he asked loudly, looking completely innocent. What a fucking little snitch.
Mom practically dropped her fork as her ears instantly perked up upon hearing that specific detail. "What on earth did you just say?" she demanded, her voice rising in pitch. "You two actually bunked school today?" We desperately tried to explain we were not causing trouble it was for work, but she refused to listen to our excuses.
She loudly lectured both of us for the entire duration of dinner that night. Missy sat quietly across the room, clearly enjoying our profound misery by the looks of the massive smile plastered across her face.
Mom finally let us go to our rooms, but only after extracting a solemn promise from both of us that we would never skip classes again. Our fingers were crossed that time. No promises
After dinner, the family members usually just dispersed to do their own individual things in the past. Dad would watch television, Mom would clean, and the kids would retreat to their rooms. However, for the last few days, I have been actively changing that old routine.
I started specifically asking Dad to come outside and walk around the block with me after we finished eating.
Somehow, Missy decided to tag along one evening just to get out of doing her chores, and then Mom happily joined the group the following night. Eventually, Mom practically forced our little resident snitch to join the evening stroll as well. Sheldon loudly complained the entire time he tied his shoes.
He kept whining that he desperately wanted to be left at home to study peacefully in his room.
He argued that the outside air was filled with dangerous allergens and roaming racoons.
We all completely ignored his dramatic protests and dragged him out the front door anyway. It took some serious convincing to get everyone on board initially, but now it has surprisingly become a mandatory part of our daily household schedule.
Nowadays, our entire family walks together around the block for a solid thirty minutes every single evening. The primary goal of this entire operation was simply to convince Dad to start doing something physical for his heart. But it turned into something wholesome.
Mom and Dad usually end up walking a few paces behind the rest of us. Sometimes I even catch them secretly holding hands and smiling while walking.
Even Meemaw randomly joins us on our route whenever she feels like it. It has honestly turned into a really good bonding time for the whole family to just talk and decompress.
Mom is absolutely thrilled with this new development, constantly smiling as she watches all her children walking together.
I genuinely hoped that with enough good food habits and these consistent daily walks, Dad would slowly start to lose some of his excess weight. Achieving this was simply not possible by my efforts alone.
Both Mom and I had to secretly plan and strategize just to convince Dad to step outside for that very first day.
Then, we somehow managed to get him out there every single day after that, despite his constant rumblings and complaints about missing his sports programs.
Deep down, I am absolutely sure Dad is also quite happy with the quality bonding time he gets to spend with his kids, even if he refuses to admit it out loud.
During our evening walk, I noticed a neglected house with a faded on sale sign staked in the front lawn. I quickly memorized the realtor's phone number printed on the wooden board. I immediately sensed an opportunity and pulled Georgie aside to quietly explain my thoughts.
I logically figured that the realtor could not possibly sell the house while it was looking like an absolute disaster. He must desperately want the front yard cleaned up and presentable. Looking closely at the terrible condition of the dark windows, it seemed highly likely that the property was not properly cleaned on the inside either.
We all eventually circled back home, and everyone scattered to do their usual nighttime routines. I immediately cornered Georgie in the hallway and explained exactly how he needed to talk to the realtor to properly pitch the cleaning services we could easily provide. I wrote down a quick script for him to follow.
Georgie picked up the living room landline and confidently called the guy. I stood nearby, crossing my fingers and desperately hoping that it was not entirely too late in the evening for a busy local realtor to actually pick up his phone and listen to a couple of eager teenagers.
_________
Do you like this kind of stuff outside of the story of young sheldon?