Wilbur Allen III, Willy Cross, Billy Moss, and Burp Martin (12)

Wilbur Allen III, Willy Cross, Billy Moss, and Burp Martin (12)

    The boys came into Wilbur's Grocer, the grocery store in 100 Oak Valley, at 11:00, wanting to spend their allowances before heading to the Illy Pad for fishing. It had been a couple of weeks, but Willy Cross and Billy Moss decided they couldn't spend another cool weekend inside the house. They walked through the candy section of Wilbur's and picked out a regal selection of Johnny Bars and Lovely's Chocolates and Clark's Sugar Missiles. Their arms full, they went down the aisle, towards the magazines and comics, and Willy picked up the latest issue of The Watchguard. 

    "Man," he said, as he flipped through the colorful pages. "The last one had a really bad ending. I hope this one is better."

    "Don't go through it all now!" Billy Moss exclaimed over the mountain of candy in his arms. "It'll ruin it!"

    "Alright, alright." Willy said, taking his Velcro billfold from his pocket. He took out the ten dollar bill that he received every month in exchange for daily chores and the boys walked up to the counter, where Wilbur Allen III stood waiting for them with a smile.

    "Morning, boys," the aging man said, brushing the price gun over the items. "Did y'all just get your monthly pay?"

    "Yes, sir," Billy grinned from ear to ear.

    "Good to hear," Wilbur laughed. "Where're you two headed with this treasure trove?"

    "Out to 100 Oak Valley Crick," Willy informed the owner and operator of Wilbur's Grocer, though he had no clue what the word 'trove' meant. "We're going fishing. Aren't we, Billy?"

    "Yep!" The boy said, and the two high-fived. 

    "How the fish biting for you two?" Wilbur asked, putting the boys' items in a plastic bag and handing them to Billy.

    "Okay I guess," Willy shrugged, handing each boys' ten dollar bill to the man.

    "Well," Wilbur said, handing Willy back the change. "You boys be careful out there, you hear? Don't wanna hear about you falling into that Crick."

    "We'll be careful, sir." Billy smiled and the two boys were off, leaving Wilbur alone in the store.

Good kids, he thought as he pulled the shop broom from under the counter and began to meticulously sweep the floors, although he'd already done it twice before now. He didn't know whether he was doing it from boredom or from some unknown obsessive disorder. He was closing in on fifty-five, and he was too set in his ways to care about any disorder he might have.

    The bell over the door tinkled as a new customer came in. 

Wilbur craned his neck over the medicine aisle he was currently in and saw a young man walk into the store. He wore a light jacket over a shirt that read CLEVELAND ROCKS! and had a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that were slightly hidden behind blond hair. A good looking kid, no doubt a tourist.

    "Hello?" He called out.

    "What can I do for you, sport?" Wilbur asked, walking up to the kid, with his hand extended.

The two shook hands and the boy said, "Picking up some supplies. My friends and I are staying over in the Woods."

    "Oh, yup," Wilbur nodded. "Heard there were some young'uns out there. Welcome to 100 Oak Valley, son. Name's Wilbur Allen."

    "Charlie Martin," the kid introduced. "But my friends call me Burp."

    "Odd handle you got their, Burp," Wilbur grinned. "Now, what can I get for you?"

The boy, Burp, looked worried for a second and then said, "Well, we need some dogs, preferably Yummy Weiner! brand if you've got it."

    "Ah, dogs we've got, but we don't got those real brands. Afraid you'll have to settle with Frank's Classic."

    "Oh that's fine," Burp smiled. "Also, we need a case of Cherry Chug soda and Rowdy Rooster."

Ah, the source of the worried look: a minor buying beer.

    "Well, I can hook y'all up with some of that Cherry Chug soda, but you gotta show ID for the Rowdy Rooster. State laws, you know."

Burp nodded and said, "Can do, sir."

    "Well, alright then," Wilbur smiled. "Get your supplies and meet me at the counter."

It took the boy only about two minutes to get the hot dogs, beer, soda, and some buns and a Johnny Bar. He set them on the counter and Wilbur began to price them.

    "Can I also get a pack of Blue Bell cigarettes?" Burp asked, pulling out his wallet.

    "Sure thing," Wilbur said, turning around and pulling a pack of the cigarettes from the wall display. "Can I get your ID for the beer and 'rettes?"

    "Uh, yeah," Burp said, pulling out an driver's license from his wallet.

Wilbur took the ID and looked it over. Name: Charles Abigail Martin. DOB:03/24/1988. Everything appeared to be in order, but Wilbur had an eye for these things and his eye screamed that this card was a fake.

    "Son," he said. "I gotta tell you something."

Burp gulped and there was no doubt the ID was false.

    "Yeah," Wilbur nodded. "Now we both know what's going on here, don't we?"

    "Yes, sir," Burp said, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry."

    "Now, I wasn't born yesterday and I appreciate you not thinking so. I want you to promise you and your friends out there won't get into any car or go anywhere outside your cabin area up there in the Woods. You promise me that and you can pay for all this and head on up there."

    "I promise, sir." Burp said solemnly.

    "You seem t'be a good kid, Charlie," Wilbur said, handing the ID back to Burp. "I'd hate to see you get dragged up to St. Claire in the backseat of a police car. Go on and have fun with your friends, but be careful and remember what you promised me."

    "I will, sir," Burp said.

    "Good. That'll be $42.13."

    "$42.13? That would make one of things cost over twenty dollars, sir."

    "That's right. And I think we both know which item of purchase that would be, don't we." Wilbur said with a wink.

Burp laughed and nodded. "Yes, sir." he said and paid the man. "Thank you, sir," he added and left the shop.

Wilbur looked around the deserted store, picked up the broom and began to sweep again.