“Look at this mess, George. The grammar’s all wrong. You’ve spelled ‘there’ four different ways on the same page. Your punctuation is all over the place. The only job you’ll ever get with this kind of work is trash pick-up.”
Those words stung when Mrs. Davies said them back in high school. They still did, but I turned them around. A dozen books, three on the best seller list, and two movies. Quite a bit better than a janitor. At least she got one thing right. I needed to get my act together. Right after graduation I poured my soul onto page. Now I had money to burn on Armani suits. And a special little gift for Mrs. Davies. I’d rub this cheap, error-filled sign right in her face.
“Well if it isn’t George P. Urim,” said Mrs. Davies as I walked into her classroom. “I was hoping you’d visit one day.”
“Uh, hi, Mrs. Davies,” I said. The smile plastered across her face was more disconcerting than the fact that she remembered my name after all this time. “I brought you something.”
Her eyebrows shot up as she took the package and removed the extravagant wrapping. As soon as she read the sign she started chuckling. “I see you aren’t the only one with grammar issues. ‘The early worm get’s the bird,’ indeed. At least you made errors work to your advantage.”
She motioned to her bookshelf. On it sat all twelve of my novels and ticket stubs from both movies.