15 March 2026, Freewriters Community Daily Writing Prompt Day 3043: call to action

“Seriously, Dad could have gone into selling barbecue, except that Dad doesn't like the sales process.”

Nine-year-old Milton Trent was talking with best friend nine-year-old George Ludlow as they were waiting on Sgt. Vincent Trent to finish the barbecue he was working on that day.

“Yeah, your dad's barbecue is really good, but I get it,” George said. “Selling the Ludlow Bubbly is kinda easy because it sells itself, but if you gotta sweat over a barbecue pit all day and then also get on TV and try to get people to buy it, those lights are hot, too.”

“That ain't even it, although that is a thing, too,” Milton said. “Dad hates the whole commercial process with its formulas: remind people they are in pain, have your product play Jesus that will save them, and then put on the call to action to get them to buy your stuff. Dad hates that. It's the Jubilee in him.”

“But what does your Grandma Jubilee have to do with it?” George said. “That is kinda bad, though, when you think about it.”

“The Jubilee-of-the-mountain way is totally different,” Milton said. “I mean, the Trent side was all up in selling moonshine to people in pain, and it destroyed a lot of the family when they got into selling drugs and then the War on Drugs – but the Jubilee-of-the-mountain way is basically value for value. They are going to present whatever it is and what it does at a fair price, and if you decide you need it and can exchange value for it – it can be money, but a lot of creative people can offer a lot of creative things to meet other people's needs, then you can have it.”

George thought about this.

“That's kind of what we do with the Ludlow Bubbly – we ain't gotta turn soda into Jesus. Folks just need to taste it and see how good it is.”

“Right, and we work with the Duboises and the Gonzalezes the same way,” Milton said. We all see the value in what we have to offer, so, we don't have to sell like that.”

“Well, you know your father could just open a barbecue shack where the wind will blow the smell over people,” George said. “The shack will get full quick!”

“You know … maybe he hasn't thought about it because he never gets to sit over here and smell – hey, Dad!”

Sgt. Vincent Trent looked up from flipping tofu to see his younger son and George coming to talk with him.

“What's happening?” he said.

“You know you wouldn't need to really sell barbecue and be upset with the sales process if you just put your shack where people could smell it,” Milton said. “George worked it out!”

“I thought about that,” Sgt. Trent said, “but, it won't work because if I did that, as opposed to stepping back and selling the barbecue, you would never be able to get through the line. I can't have a shack and be there all day and have time to feed you myself.”

Milton and George looked at each other.

“This is an even better reason – carry on, Dad!” Milton said.

“Thanks, I will,” Sgt. Trent said with a smile as he put the last of the tofu and thus the last of his barbecuing for the day on the grill.