Mary Morony, Author of Apron Strings, Done Growed Up and If It Ain't One Thing

Like Father Like Son

Unhappy young studentLike Father Like Son

Eager to be alone with his father, Gordy ran out to the curb as soon as the bell rang. All day he looked forward to going with his dad to check on his newest construction. Riding around with his father while he surveyed the progress of a new site might be the boy’s favorite thing to do. As he stood to wait for his dad to pull up, he remembered the grade he got on his English test. Oh man, he is going to kill me. Excellent, just the two of us, too. No Sallee to yammer away and take the pressure off. What a thought; wishing for Helen to be there to whine or Sallee to run her mouth the idea never occurred to him before.

He reasoned he didn’t have Sallee to run things then he would have to,  if he controlled the conversation his father might not ask him about the grade. As he mulled over a possible topic, Joe drove up. The boy jumped into the car before he shut the door he started right in on his plan to monopolize the narrative. “Hey, Remember that rattlesnake at Crabtree Falls? Remember how huge the thing was? Almost as big around as my leg.” He minded himself don’t let him get a word in edgewise. As a plan, it worked if he would stop asking questions. Tell a story; he reminded himself as his brain seized.

“Hey Bud, How are you doing?” By way of an answer, Gordy shot his father a toothy grin that looked more like a grimace. “Son, is something bothering you? You don’t seem yourself.”

“No, I’m thinking about the swell time we had when you and Sallee and me…”


“…I went up to Crabtree Falls. Then I remembered you killed the rattler after he striked at me.”


“Struck at me. That doesn’t sound right. Whatever, the thing tried to bite me. Boy, it was enormous. I remember being so scared. ”

Joe interrupted, “I don’t remember seeing a rattlesnake? I am not sure I ever have. But for sure I never killed one.” He turned the car into the drive. “Say, how did that grammar exam you were so worried about go?”

“Not so hot.”

“Too bad, grammar is rough going. So how bad were the damages?”

“A D-plus,” the boy admitted staring at his shoes. Joe reached over and patted his son on the shoulder.

“You know what they say? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Your mother is always correcting mine. To this day, how I made my way through the fifth grade is a mystery. That’s when they started teaching grammar when I was a kid. At least you got the plus, Huh?”

Then the boy relaxed back into the seat. “Hmm, you had a hard time too? Cool.”



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