Pink Flamingoed by Steve Demaree

morning to get the newspaper.
    “Well, thanks for the weather update, but I suspect
that was not the only reason you came to see me.”
    “Well, it is and it isn’t. Dad, I’ve been thinking
about something.”
    “And what is that, Son?” Scott asked.
    He had already put down his work when his son entered
the room and was doing his best to be a concerned listener.
    “Well, Dad, I’ve been thinking that I need to make
some money.”
    “And how do you propose to do that?”
    “Well, Dad, It snowed a lot last night and there are a
lot of older  people  on  this  street  and  most of them have more money than
they know what to do with. Are you following me so far, Dad?”
    “Actually, I think I’m ahead of you. So, you want to
go out and call on our neighbors and make some money shoveling snow. Am I
correct?”
    “Yeah, unless you’d rather make a significant increase
in my allowance.”
    “My dad always said shoveling snow was good for a boy.
He said it helped a boy develop character.”
    “And muscles, too.”
    “Well, yes, if he does enough of it. There’s just one
problem with your proposition, Son. I’m the pastor, and because I’m the pastor
and you’re the pastor’s son, some of these people may feel obligated to let you
shovel their snow. How much do you plan to charge anyway?”
    “How does twenty dollars sound?”
    “I thought you were planning to shovel snow, not build
them a house.”
    “So, you think that’s a little steep, huh, Dad?”
    “Let’s just say I have a different idea. Maybe you can
go through the neighborhood and ask people if they’d like to have their snow
shoveled, and if they do, they’ll ask you how much you’d charge.”
    “Sounds like my plan, so far, Dad.”
    “Yes, but here’s where our plans begin to travel
different directions. When they ask you what you’d charge, you can tell them
whatever they’re willing to pay. How’s that sound?”
    “Well, actually, I like my direction better. But what
if I can’t get any takers?”
    “Well, then you just come home and I’ll let you shovel
our walk and the church’s walk. How’s that?”
    “I don’t know. Just what do you mean by ‘let’ me? Does
that mean I get paid or just do it for the experience and to build up my
muscles?”
    “How about if I pay you to do our walk and the
church’s walk would be your gift to God?”
    “How about if you pay me for both and I give God ten
percent of what you pay me to do the church?”
    “You know, doing both of them for the experience isn’t
such a bad idea after all. You could always use a little more character.”
    “I think I’m enough of a character, already. Let’s
say, you pay me well for our walk and I’ll do the church’s to get on
God’s good side.”
    Scott shook his head and laughed.
    “Get out of here and remember to do a good job
wherever you go. Our family name’s at stake.”
    Kenny tore out of his dad’s study, hurried to the
garage to get the snow shovel, and hastened to the Henderson’s. It never dawned
on him that the snow which was so deep that he was having trouble walking
through it would be the same snow he planned to shovel. His excited demeanor
came to abrupt halt with the first shovelful. But first there were customers to
get.
    “Hi, Mrs. Henderson.”
    “Hi, Kenny. From the looks of your shovel I’d say
you’re trying to earn some money shoveling snow. How much do you charge?”
    “Uh...whatever people are willing to pay. Would you
like for me to shovel your walk?”
    “Sure, Kenny. That will save Mr. Henderson from having
to do it.”
    Not used to doing manual labor, Kenny struggled as he
shoveled the heavy snow, but eventually he finished and returned to the Henderson’s front door to collect his money.
    “Well, I’m finished, Mrs. Henderson.”
    “Just a second, Kenny, while I go and get some money.”
    Cora Henderson returned with a ten dollar bill and
handed it to Kenny. “Is this okay?”
    “Sure. Gee,