Huckleberry Mark

Mark called me from school on the day of the Halloween Carnival to ask if I'd put any money in his backpack.

I told him I had not, and he asked how he was supposed to partake in the festivities without any tickets.

"You're a creative boy," I told him. "You'll figure something out!"

And indeed he did. When I picked him up, he was clutching a 2-liter bottle of Diet Dr Pepper, a bag of goodies and he couldn't wait to tell me all about the giant slide he and Kyle rode down five times.

"You got all that without any tickets?" I asked.

He brushed me off. "Yeah, and the third time we went down the slide, we--"

"How'd you get the tickets?" I interrupted.

"From Kyle," he answered. "Kyle had $20 and all he wanted to do was buy soda with it. I talked him into going down the slide instead."

"Very helpful of you," I noted.

"I know," Mark said. "And I got this soda because I'm really good at huckling."

"At what?" I asked. I wasn't sure I'd heard him right, but he repeated, "Huckling--I'm a really good huckler."

I thought maybe he meant hustling, because honestly, that boy can sweet talk candy from a baby--if you have something he wants, give him five minutes, and he'll convince you to hand it over.

But he meant something else. "You know," he said, "I'm good at getting the price down. This soda was supposed to be two tickets, but I got it for one!"

"Oh, you mean haggling," I said.

"Yes, heckling," he replied. "I'm good at heckling people."

"Not heckling, haggling. Heckling is making fun of people."

"Whatever," he said. He was tired of my semantics, and wanted me to be impressed with his prowess at riding the slide and getting free junk food.

And so I was. I listened to his tales from the Halloween Carnival and laughed. Because truth be told, he is a very talented huckler, and you just don't come across that every day.