“Jeeze,” I muttered under my breath as I scraped my fork around in the thick syrup that completely covered my now squishy pancakes. Ever heard of too much syrup, I thought rudely to myself. I heard the chair infront of me scrape against the faded linolium floor, but I hardly flenched.
“I have hired a worker to help me around the vinyard. Would you mind being his extra hands?” Gramps looked at me with big pleading eyes, and I just nodded sheapishly. Great. Now I’m stuck helping out some mid aged guy with a beer belly. I would spend my summer handing the waterhose to some balding guy who needed to get a real job.
“Sure, Gramps. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” I plastered what I hoped was a sweet, angelic smile and stood up from the table. I looked at my pancakes, the plate full of syrup. Yep. Summer looked like it would be a blast.