BAD HAIR DAY
My submission for the
April Fools Day Story Contest 2024
event.
This one's for AJ; she's a naughty girl.
><><><><><
After what she did... can you blame me for goin' off the deep end? We'd been married for near 25 years when she lost her everlovin' mind and broke my heart. Thank goodness the boys were grown and livin' their lives. Me 'n Ellie, she's my youngest (well,
ours
, I reckon), she was still at home, and we did our best to pick up the pieces. It took a little while, but we had pretty much moved on, enough that I got me a hair-brained scheme to get some payback. Well, the first one, anyway.
I started goin' to my ex-wife's stylists for haircuts. I say stylists, plural, on purpose, because I've been to more than one. Why, you ask? To screw with my ex, that's why. I made it my goal in life to fuck 'em. Her stylists, I mean, not my ex. I knew that if I did, word would get back to her eventually, and then she'd have to go find a new hairdresser, and
that
pissed her right off. I guess good ones are hard to find.
But Amber? I guess my ex really liked how Amber did her hair. Or maybe Amber didn't blab. Either way was fine with me, coz Amber was fuckin'
great
in the sack. When she told me she had a grandkid, I asked if she got knocked up at twelve, and she just smacked my arm, showed me her dimples, and called me a silver-tongued devil.
To a guy in his mid-forties like me - aww hell, to most men (and some women) from the age of consent on up - Amber was damn hot. She was about my age, but she was most definitely a MILF and a GILF all rolled into one. She was tall, with big brown eyes and shoulder-length dark brown hair - and who the fuck cared if it was her natural color or not, it looked great. She was maybe a little plump, but in all the right places, very pretty, with a perfect complexion.
When I asked her for a date after the first time she did my hair, she asked, "Ain't you Bobbi's ex?"
So cool that butter wouldn't melt in my mouth, I replied, "Why yes, I used to be married to that cheatin' slut, why do you ask?"
She just shrugged. "Don't matter to me, JT, I was just askin'. Sure, I'll go out with you."
><><><><><
JT - that's me, John Thomas Winslow. I run JT's Auto Repair and do a pretty good business. My ex was the former Miss Roberta Jackson, and I wish to GOD she'd take her maiden name back, but she's still Bobbi Winslow. I think she keeps my name coz she knows it pisses
me
off.
Anywho, we knew each other all through school but didn't start datin' until the end of our junior year. My girlfriend's family had moved away, and Bobbi's boyfriend dumped her coz she wouldn't put out - not for
him
, anyway. Not sure how we ended up together that night; I think we were at a party and neither of us was in the mood for it, so I asked her if she wanted to go to the drive-in and she said that'd be all right.
Well, we sat in my truck and wound up tellin' each other our break-up stories over milkshakes and fries. Bobbi liked to dip her fries in her vanilla shake, which kinda grossed me out, but she sure was pretty and I wasn't about to complain.
I asked her out the next week, and she said yes, and that was that. We were together like sweet tea and sunshine all senior year, that is until I knocked her up on Prom Night - teach me to buy fuckin' generic condoms - so we got married and I went to work for my Uncle Dan at the auto repair shop that I now own and run. Dad, Uncle Dan, and I worked out a deal so I could buy him out when he retired, and he and my Aunt Shirley moved to Florida.
Hold up, y'all... I need to backtrack just a bit, so bear with me.
So... couple o' months after prom, I reckon, was when Bobbi missed her second period, and she called me up.
"JT, get your good for nothin' ass over here. And I mean right now!"
Good for what, now?
Course I didn't know nothin' about the missed period. But hoo-boy, I was about to find out.
She sounded pretty dang serious, and Bobbi was usually a sweet girl, so I did what she said. I pulled up in front of her house and she stomped out to the truck, got in, and slammed the door. She just sat there fumin', with her arms crossed over her chest. She wouldn't look at me.
"Uhh, Bobbi? Sweetheart?" I musta did
somethin'
, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what. I'd been wrackin' my brain all the way over.
"Don't you 'sweetheart' me, John Thomas."
Oh shit, the full name?
"And why are we still sittin' here? Come on, get a move on." She kinda flicked one hand at the road.
"Umm... where we goin', hon... err, bab... I mean, Bobbi?"
"CVS," she said, and there was a little bit of a catch in her voice. I risked a glance at her, but she hadn't moved. Eyes dead ahead, arms still folded, feet planted on the floorboard. This was bad. Usually, she liked to scooch over by me, lean back, and put a foot up on the dash. That's why I loved the bench seat in my truck, but now, there was the Great Wall of Pissed-Off Girlfriend runnin' right down the middle.
I reckoned I better keep my mouth shut and drive. So that's what I did.
When we got there, I started to say, "You want me to..." but that's about as far as I got before she was out o' the truck and headed inside the store. She did turn and point at me, to stay put. Put, I stayed.
By now I was startin' to feel kinda queasy, and it kep' gettin' worse and worse as I sat there for the next 15 minutes. I was about to go in after her when I saw her comin' out, and she looked horrible. I jumped out of the truck and went over to her.
She looked up at me, and she was cryin'.
"Bobbi, sugar bug, please tell me what's wrong?"
She stood there lookin' up at me, her lip tremblin', and finally, she held up the little stick thing.
I was shook, I ain't gonna lie. But I loved her, and after a minute, I cleared my throat and told her, "Well, I guess I need to go talk to your daddy. If you'll have me, that is."
She pointed that cute little finger and hissed at me like an alley cat with its dander up. "Don't you dare joke around, JT Winslow. Don't you
dare
."
"I ain't jokin', Bobbi." And right there in the CVS parkin' lot, I got down on one knee. "Roberta Jackson, will you marry me?"
Well, she turned pink, but just stared at me for the longest time. Finally, she said, "Daddy first. Then I reckon I need a ring." She gave me a tiny grin. "Then we'll talk."
Not quite what I had planned when I woke up that morning, but I sure was glad to see her smile.
><><><><><
Our folks weren't all that mad - neither one of us was goin' to college, and both our moms were happy about bein' grandmothers. Like I said, I had a job lined up so we'd be okay. Lots of my friends were doin' the same thing; marryin' their sweethearts and gettin' started in life. Me 'n Bobbi was just gettin' a jump on the 'parents' thing.
I did go talk to Bobbi's daddy, and he took a minute to decide if he was gonna kill me or not, and it coulda gone either way - I swear I saw flames shootin' up in his eyes - but he did finally come around. I reckon no father likes to think about what his little girl is gettin' up to, but maybe the thought of grandkids did have a way of smoothin' things over.
My own dad just said, "Take care of that girl, son. Time to grow up, you hear? I'll bust your ass myself if Bobbi's dad don't!"
What else could I say but "Yessir."
Anyway, like I said, me 'n Bobbi got married, and John Thomas Jr. was born about four months after the wedding. We called him JJ for John Junior, and when he opened his mouth and hollered for the first time, well I couldn't regret that busted rubber. Two years after JJ, we had Michael Leonard - named after both our daddies - and then surprise, surprise; six years after Mike, Bobbi come home from the doctor and started cussin' me up one side and down the other. "Goddamnit JT, you knocked me up again, you sneaky bastard!"
She weren't really all that mad though, coz she had a feelin' it was a girl. Turned out she was right, and we had our third, little Ellen June, or Ellie for short. But the second after she popped out, Bobbi started hollerin' right there in the delivery room, "While you're in there, Doc, cut them damn tubes and do it right quick, afore he gets another shot at me! And put a double knot in 'em!"
Well, I ain't gonna lie, my new baby girl had me wrapped around her little finger from the first minute. Her brothers too, I'm proud to say. They looked after her like hawks all the time she was growin' up, and if some boy gave her any bit of trouble, well they'd have JJ and Mike on them like the devil. Now I loved my boys too, and I enjoyed the heck outa takin' 'em to PeeWee football, and Little League, and JJ played American Legion ball for a while too. Ellie always wanted to tag along, and the boys loved to have her there cheerin' for them.
Made it hard for her to get dates, but I was fine with that! What daddy wants to see his little girl goin' out with boys, knowin' exactly what's goin' on in those hormone-infested brains of theirs? Sex-crazed little sonsabitches... Shit, I was their age once! But as she got older, Bobbi was able to run some interference, so Ellie wasn't a total outcast.
She was only ten when JJ went off to join the Navy, and he got stationed on an aircraft carrier and we didn't hardly see him 'cept at Christmas, maybe. Mike got the brains; not sure where from, but he got 'em, and he got hisself a scholarship to State, then got a job in California and moved away. He tried to visit, same as JJ, but... he's makin' his own life, and I am damn proud o' both my boys.
As for Ellie? I knew she missed her brothers, but you coulda knocked me over with a feather when the day after her high school graduation, she came up to me and said, "Daddy, I ain't cut out for college. I'm tired of schoolin'. I wanna work with you." Well shoot, I think I mighta leaked out a tear or two when she told me.
"You sure, baby girl?" I asked her. I mean, it wasn't a complete surprise - she had always loved helpin' me when I worked on the car at home and tagged along to the shop with me when she didn't have school or Bobbi couldn't find a sitter. I guess I always figured one of the boys would follow after me, but life's funny sometimes.
"Yes, Daddy," she said, and from the look in her eye, I could see she was determined.
"Okay then, you can start on Monday. Get your momma to take you shoppin' for some work clothes; you know what to get. I'll start you on oil changes and tire rotations and we can go from there."
I could see the excitement in her eyes; I guess she thought I might say no. "Thank you, Daddy!" she hollered, and she hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I reckon I'd do about anything for one of those kisses.
I knew I'd have no trouble at the shop. Most of my guys had watched Ellie grow up, and they were like a bunch of bumblin' uncles to her. Always full o' terrible advice, but willin' to do anything for her. If anything, I had to tell 'em to let her do her own work for God's sake, or how else was she gonna learn?
When I got her some coveralls with the
JT's Auto