Chapter 1
The final kid walked out the door of my store. I stood behind the counter, looking at the carnage that the children left behind. It was the usual Friday lull, before the adults start to shop for their various books and collectibles. My wife Rosanne sauntered throughout the store straitening up shelves and keeping an eye on our nine-year-old son Manny. He likes to help around the store, by stocking shelves and helping customers. The bell to the front door jingled as someone walks into the store.
A blonde haired person strolled in front of the shelving that held the most popular comics. The person started to open one of the comics, when Manny shrieked. “Mr. Powder!” The small boy ran towards my lifelong friend Jon Powder. Besides being my best friend, he is one of my most loyal customers.
“Mr. Powder, we don’t need a Powder in my store,” I said sounding like a Mexican Bandito from one of those spaghetti westerns.
Powder turned to me. His eyes shrunk to a squint as he stared at me angrily. “Well I aint leavin,” Powder said, his voice sounding gravelly.
We continued to stare at one another angrily for a few seconds. Suddenly I started to snicker and break our staring contest. “Good afternoon Jon.”
“Juan, it is always good to see you my friend,” He said smiling.
“Hi Jon, how are you today?” Roseanne asked, smiling at my friend.
“You are looking lovely as ever Rose,” he said to her, smiling.
“Jon you look nice except for those stains that you always have on your shirt,” pointing to a spot on his white colored shirt. “You know I can clean your shirts for you,” she said in a motherly tone of voice. “How will you ever find a good woman if you don’t take care of yourself?”
Powders cheeks became red from embarrassment. “Okay Rose, I don’t have anything ready right now. I will put some things together and take you up on your offer,” he said sheepishly.
Powder continued walking around the store scanning all the shelves. Every time he came to the store, he looked for some of the most unusual books that are on the market. I was able to find something that I hoped he would find and be pleasantly surprised. As Powder strolled throughout the store, Manny walked behind him and held up one of his action figures.
“What’s this?” Powder asked my rambunctious son. “It seems quite impressive, but I don’t remember seeing this guy anywhere in the store.”
“You won’t see it anywhere, because it is a figure of my dad.” Manny said.
Powder looked over the figure, and then he looked over at me, and then back at the figure. “I need to look at this a little closer,” Jon said, grabbing the figure from Manny’s hand.
“Hey that’s mine,” The young boy said grabbing at Powder’s hand.
“I need a closer look,” he said holding the figure in the air, causing my son to jump up and down to get his toy from my friend. “Are you sure that’s your dad, because I don’t see it. I think your dad is stronger looking.” Jon said, winking at me, and then he slid the figure into his coat pocket.
The two of them start running and laughing around the store. Eventually Manny catches Powder and gets my friend to give him back his figure.
Jon went back to hunting through the shelves for that special comic book. “What’s this?” Powders voice rang out from across the room. I peered through the racks to see Powder holding the book I had set aside for him. He thumbed through it with a big grin growing on his face.
“I love westerns,” Powder exclaimed as he held up the book, showing me his new great discovery.
“Jon, would you like to join us for lunch?” I asked him, pointing to a plate sitting on the counter.
“Do I have a choice?” He said smiling.
“It’s my favorite lunch of all time,” Manny said excitedly while grabbing a hotdog off his plate and stuffing it into his mouth.
“We pay him in hotdogs,” I said cynically.
“Really? I’ll work for steak and whiskey,” Powder said taking a bite of a hotdog. We all enjoyed those few quiet moments eating our food, when a young man, in his twenties ran into the store. The look of fear covered his face.
“What do you need?” I asked the young man, waiting for him to catch his breath.
“They are coming,” he said heaving. “They are coming,” he repeated.