The Pitch
Flash Fiction
Eddie was wishing he had kept his mouth shut. His father had just pressed the mute button on the remote and the living room went silent, suddenly devoid of the evening’s news.
His father turned to him. “What do you mean you’re nervous? For God’s sake, just do it!”
Eddie stood frozen, knowing full well his father was right. He looked at his mother.
“You’ll be just fine, Eddie,” she said.
His father sat up in his La-Z-Boy recliner. “Do I have to remind you again that you come from a long line of door-to-door salesmen?”
“I remember,” Eddie said, still not moving.
“Your grandfather Joe sold encyclopedias door-to-door for close to thirty years. Now that’s something!” Eddie’s father looked to his mother for confirmation.
“Oh yes,” Eddie’s mother said, “your grandpa could sell anybody a set of those encyclopedias. They gave him a medal when he retired.”
Eddie had heard it all before, but it was no consolation. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought of knocking on all of those strange doors.
“Don’t forget I sold door-to-door too, Eddie.”
“I remember.”
“I was just eighteen when I sold my first vacuum,” Eddie’s father said, finding…
