A Family Antimatter
Predator Press
[LOBO]
“And then Chip heard what Brad said,” emphasizes my teenage daughter, eh, Complainy.
I blink.
“Dad, now Cole won’t talk to Brad at all.”
“Are you just going to keep whipping names popular on Lifetime fifteen years ago at me?”
Complainy is visibly exhausted. “They’re fighting.”
“So three guys fighting over you right now,” I summarize.
“Yes,” she sighs woundedly.
“And you couldn’t get one of them to bring you your sweater?”
”What?”
“You made me drive you a sweater into school this morning,” I remind gently. “None of these three manly suitors could stop beating on each other long enough to come and get your sweater?”
“I couldn’t-“
“It seems to me the one that volunteered to go fetch the sweater woulda been the smart one,” I conclude. “The other two guys would’ve beaten each other to a pulp by then. He could’ve delivered the garment, and just put his foot on their chests while you held his arm up.”
“Or maybe he isn’t the smart one,” she says, clearly pissed.
“You raise an interesting point too," I observe. "Who the heck needs a sweater in California?"
“None of you care.”
“Sure we do,” I protest. “Just mostly about other stuff.”
“You’re not up for ’Father of the Year,’ are you?”
“We never liked you if you must know,” I confess. "And Terri will be the first to point out the fact that you started it."
"How?"
"That whole puking on her when we took you home from the hospital for one. It was a clear act of aggression and duly noted," I point out. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on you ever since.” I flip out a tattered notebook. “Not two hours later you took up screaming and other more passive-aggressive activities such as frequent drooling.”
“I was one day old!”
"Fine," I says flipping through some pages. “Then what's your excuse for that whole 'Chicken Pox' debacle?”
[LOBO]
“And then Chip heard what Brad said,” emphasizes my teenage daughter, eh, Complainy.
I blink.
“Dad, now Cole won’t talk to Brad at all.”
“Are you just going to keep whipping names popular on Lifetime fifteen years ago at me?”
Complainy is visibly exhausted. “They’re fighting.”
“So three guys fighting over you right now,” I summarize.
“Yes,” she sighs woundedly.
“And you couldn’t get one of them to bring you your sweater?”
”What?”
“You made me drive you a sweater into school this morning,” I remind gently. “None of these three manly suitors could stop beating on each other long enough to come and get your sweater?”
“I couldn’t-“
“It seems to me the one that volunteered to go fetch the sweater woulda been the smart one,” I conclude. “The other two guys would’ve beaten each other to a pulp by then. He could’ve delivered the garment, and just put his foot on their chests while you held his arm up.”
“Or maybe he isn’t the smart one,” she says, clearly pissed.
“You raise an interesting point too," I observe. "Who the heck needs a sweater in California?"
“None of you care.”
“Sure we do,” I protest. “Just mostly about other stuff.”
“You’re not up for ’Father of the Year,’ are you?”
“We never liked you if you must know,” I confess. "And Terri will be the first to point out the fact that you started it."
"How?"
"That whole puking on her when we took you home from the hospital for one. It was a clear act of aggression and duly noted," I point out. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on you ever since.” I flip out a tattered notebook. “Not two hours later you took up screaming and other more passive-aggressive activities such as frequent drooling.”
“I was one day old!”
"Fine," I says flipping through some pages. “Then what's your excuse for that whole 'Chicken Pox' debacle?”
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