A Good Paperboy

parable, short short, 200 words

A Good Paperboy By Kasey Klein     When I was eleven years old, back in the day when newspapers came out in the afternoon, I had a newspaper route. I heard a route adjacent my street came open. “But you gotta be twelve years old,” a boy from school told me. I asked whether they’d make an exception. They did. The boy’s father hosted the area drop. My mother signed the form, thinking the responsibility would do me good. The job wasn’t difficult. I’d ride my bicycle to the drop, get my papers, fold and band each, placing them in the large canvas bag, loop the bag strap on my bicycle handlebars and ride my route. On the first day at the first house, I balanced my bicycle between my legs, double-checking my list. A woman stood from her weeding and eyed me carefully. “You’re new.” “Yes, ma’am. You’re on my list.” “You a sub?” “I’m not sure what you mean.” “This your route now or just filling in?” “Oh.” I beamed maybe a bit too proudly. “This is my route.” “Your name?” “Karl.” She nodded approval. “I want to tell you the difference between good paperboys and bad paperboys. Good paperboys always have the paper on the porch, in front of my door.” “And, bad paperboys?” “Anything else.” I wanted to be a good paperboy.

 

 

Reviews

[Chris]

It always helps to KNOW what is expected...

[r.r. krueck]

This reminded me of my own youth, back when I had my own paper route. However my paper route was not in the afternoon and the papers were not delivered by bicycle. It was a Sunday paper route, and I started deliveries at about 3 am, in my 1989 Ford Bronco II. I was a bit of a hellian back then and I definitely did not want to be a good paperboy. Thank you for this, it was short and to the point, and if you define good writing as inspiring emotion, familiarity, and memories, then this hit the target.