I jumped in surprise when the back door opened with a thwack and hit the wall. Seconds later, my father stormed into the store throwing his apron down in

disgust.

"That's it! I've had it!"

My mother left her post at the cash register to see what all of the fuss was about. I was curious too, because with my father, you just never knew.

"Why Herbert, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong, Winnie! He's what's wrong!"

"Why are you pointing at Dobie?"

I smiled gratefully at my mother. She was always on my side; well, most of the time, anyway.

"Yeah, Dad. What did I do?"

Dad's eyes lit up and he smiled. But it wasn't a happy smile. You see, I knew that smile all too well. "Ah! Now there's the question of the twentieth century!

What did you do? I'll tell you what you did, boy! Absolutely nothing!"

My eyes moved from my dad to my mom and back again. "I'm not following you, Dad."

"Do I have to spell it out for you? You're a lazy, no good-."

"Why Herbert, that's no way to talk about your son!" Mom scolded. "How can you say he's lazy and no good?"

"You rang?"

I turned to find my good friend standing behind me. Now, most of the time Maynard's sudden appearances annoyed me to no end. But today I was grateful for

his presence.

"Hi, Maynard."

"Like, hi."

"Um, you were saying, Dad?"

"Oh yeah. You're a lazy, no good-."

"Herbert, please don't talk about our son that way!" Mom scolded. "Dobie is a very sweet boy!"

Once again I smiled at my mother. She was the best mom in the world. I should tell her that more often.

"He may be sweet, Winnie, but he's the laziest person I've ever seen! I've never seen him do a lick of work around here!"

"WORK!?" Maynard yelped and ran out of the store so fast, you would have thought it was on fire.

"Now look what you did, Dad!" I yelled. "You scared poor Maynard to death!"

It wasn't often that I yelled at my father, but this time he deserved it!

Oh, I was probably going to get into a lot of trouble for being disrespectful to the man who raised me, molded me and shaped me into who I am today. But

Maynard was the best friend a guy could ask for.

I admit that Maynard sometimes wasn't very bright and he really ought to learn to see work for what it was; a way to better yourself and help others instead of

something to be afraid of. But he was trustworthy, loyal and I loved him.

"Poor Maynard, huh? What about poor me?"

"Why Herbert, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this. Every day it's the same, Winnie! Clean the stockroom, count the inventory, shelve the inventory, price the inventory and sell the

inventory! It never ends!"

"But Dear, that's called running a business! You've been doing those things since you were a boy! Why are you complaining about it now?"

"I'm worn out, Winnie! I'm not as young as I used to be."

"That's true, Dear."

"Let me finish! I need help, Winnie! Lots of it!"

"Well, Dobie would be happy to help! Wouldn't you, Dobie?"

When I saw the look on my mother's face, there was no way that I could protest.

"Sure, Dad, I'll help. Now what do you need? Just say the word and I'll do it! I know I'm not the best son in the world, ore even the second best but I promise-."

"No, I've made up my mind! I have to take desperate measures!"

Mom and I exchanged worrisome glances and a cold chill ran through my body. This was it; the day that I'd been dreading for I don't know how long. Dad was

right. He wasn't getting any younger and it was obvious that his energy had started to fade. Why, it used to fascinate me watching him stock the shelves at the

speed of lightening. Now it took him twice that long. Truthfully it made me a little sad.

Oh, I know that my life wasn't anything like Chatsworth's with a big house and luxuries like a boat, jewelry and fancy cars, but I was grateful for what I had and

I knew that it was the product of hardworking parents.

My father's words hit me again; Desperate Measures.

I knew this day was coming but I always figured it would be years from now, like after I finished college or had kids of my own. And I just assumed that Dad

would leave the store to me, whether I wanted it or not. That was his dream, or so he implied. What other reason could there be for a guy to have a sign made

that said "And Son" to hang underneath the Gillis Grocery store sign?

I had to say something. I couldn't let this happen. I wasn't ready. And to be honest, I wasn't sure I'd ever be.