Sell Anything On Craigslist!: The Adventures of Jeremy Tucker, #1

By G. Younger

Jeremy Tucker thought he lived in the most boring town in the world. This town held them in the palm of its hand, and it knew everything about everyone that lived there, the good, the bad, every sin, every secret, and everything was known about each and every resident. This quiet little town was about to change and all because he put an ad on craigslist. Some would say he was a genius, while others would accuse him of being the Devil himself. Read his story and you decide

• Language: English
• Publisher: G. Younger
• Release date: Oct 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9780998837123

G. Younger

Greg Younger was born in Urbana, Illinois, on the day after Christmas in August of 1961. He was educated at the sports oriented Mahomet-Seymour High School, where he spent much of his time playing football (where he won a State Championship), hunting/fishing, and reading every science fiction or fantasy book in the town’s library. He went on to Illinois State University to study Accounting. The football stopped, but he found a new passion, he started a fraternity.  Greg enjoyed college life to the point that when he graduated he had degrees in Finance, Marketing, Management with minors in Economics and Accounting.  Greg then moved to Chicago, lived in a high rise in the Gold Coast with two men who drank too much, and found work at a bank as a computer programmer. Over the next 25 years he advanced through the ranks and became known for solving problems via the use of technology. He ventured out on his own and opened a consulting company that developed technology driven solutions for Fortune 500 companies and financial institutions. In 2005, he gave it all up to move to an area in Florida called the Nature Coast. This harkened to his days of growing up in a small Midwestern community.  Not able to just sit around he decided to try something completely different, real estate.  He eventually opened his own company.  Greg had always thought he could write a science fiction book and even had outlined one he’d given the working title of Star Academy.  Knowing he wasn’t ready for that he decided to write about what he knew, sports.  From that grew an epic series of novels: A Stupid Boy Story.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Iused to think our little town, tucked away in the mountains of West Virginia and buried in the backwoods, was the most boring spot on the planet. This was the place where nothing exciting happened and nothing was ever going to change. The place felt like it was a movie set from the 1950s. Each morning, as the sun began to peek over the ridge of the valley, you would hear the old milk truck shuddering down the back alley as he made his deliveries, just like it had been done for over 75 years. People liked tradition, and change was not easily welcomed.

As the sun would reach the crest of the ridge, people would be up and about, which was irritating for the teens in our town. My Grandma Tucker always said, Be thankful for another day, you never know when it might be your last, so don’t miss a second of it, which was usually followed by, Get your butt out of bed! People were early risers, and by the time I was out of the house the old women would be sitting on their front porches, slowly rocking with a steaming cup of coffee clutched in their hands, watching everything that happened.

Our little town was great for kids, because we were allowed to run wild. No one worried about someone snatching a child like they did in the big cities. In our little town, everyone knew each other, and kept an eye out. While we were allowed our freedom, there was a price. If you did anything wrong, it beat you home, and there was an ass-whupping waiting for you. My granny was an expert with a hickory switch.

I think the worst I ever got was from telling a joke behind the church. My best friends were twins that no one could tell apart. I had grown up with them, and I sometimes got them confused. Everyone referred to them as ‘SamorTim’ . . . yep, all one word for ‘Sam or Tim’.  You can thank me for naming them that in Sunday school when we were four. When they were that young, it didn’t matter, and they would answer to it. When they turned twelve, they decided it was no longer appropriate and wanted their own identities. That wasn’t how things worked here, though. We held with tradition, and you didn’t just up and change your first name. I tried to warn them, but they had hung strong for nearly six weeks by refusing to answer to their joint name until Missy Edwards decided they were cute and kissed them.

Missy was the preacher’s daughter, and thought to be untouchable. She made it clear she didn’t care which one it was, she just wanted to explore boys. So ‘SamorTim’ was back. I of course was jealous my two best buddies had beaten me to the punch and had actually kissed a girl who wasn’t related to them. I was the leader of our little group, and it rocked my world order that they would be doing something before I did. SamorTim were followers, to my lead. They always looked to me for direction. When I found out Missy had kissed them, I wanted to be selfish and tell them it was a sin, seeing as we lived in a very religious town; but I encouraged them. Guys need to stick together when we deal with the fairer sex, or they will lead us around by our noses. Jake Hass, who was four years older and our idol as far as dating girls was concerned, substituted ‘balls’ for ‘noses.’ I tried to clean it up in case word got back home.

I looked at my two friends as they walked with Missy into the woods. There was just something strange about being with someone you care about—not bad strange, the best strange. The three of them clung together like when you spilled your water at the diner and the napkin clung to the silverware. There were so many ways to be knotted together. Arms wrapped around waists. Hands in the other’s back pocket. The trio didn’t even seem to be able to walk without touching each other.

So, after church, we would all sneak out into the woods, and Missy would kiss the twins senseless. Missy made it clear she wasn’t going to kiss me, because she knew her virtue was safe with SamorTim. I had never even kissed a girl, but it seemed I had a reputation as a troublemaker. Funny how things work out, but I guess I deserved it when I had a brilliant plan. I thought I was funny, so I decided to tell them some jokes.

Last night I was having a great dream . . . it’s the one where you can fly, I said, and SamorTim both nodded at me in understanding.

I was looking down on the valley and I drifted down to farmer Johnson’s pond. You know, the one on the back forty that we go swimming in, I said with a grin.

That was our favorite swimming hole. It was secluded and had a gravel bottom. It was much better to swim in than the river, where you would sink to your ankles in mud. I gave Missy a wink and she blushed, making her even more beautiful with her flushed cheeks. I knew that Missy and the other girls our age would sneak out and watch us guys swim. None of us bothered with swim trunks, because no one would see us. It was not a big secret that the girls had seen our skinny naked butts.

Suddenly I felt a great pressure build and I had to pee. I looked down and everyone was watching me fly, and they all seemed to be in awe, I said as stood a little taller.

One of the twins snorted at my antics and the other rolled his eyes. They knew I was full of . . . well, you can guess, because my eyes were brown.

Then I felt a calmness settle upon me, and the pressure magically released. I felt a warmth go all over me as if I were in the presence of God, I said with an overwhelmed look on my face. Then I woke up and found I’d wet the bed.

Missy was confused, but the twins began to giggle.

My granny always tells me that if God gives you lemons, you need to find a way to make lemonade. I thought and thought how wetting my bed could be turned into a positive. I mean, I’m twelve, and haven’t had an accident since I was a baby. Then it struck me . . . I think what God was telling me was since I dreamed I was peeing, and I actually did . . . that my dreams really do come true.

The twins really did try not to laugh at my bad joke, because Missy still looked confused. I could see her mind working, and then she gave me a serious look.

Jeremy, do you really believe in God? she asked.

Of course I do. I think He’s a great guy. I think His son is a jerk, though, I said.

It took her a moment to realize what I had just said. Her eyes got big and she ran off, and I was sure it would beat me home. SamorTim both punched me in the arm to show their displeasure of me running off a girl who would actually kiss them.

My granny was not amused when I came home. I think if I had mooned the