Daddy, Can I Borrow The Car? is based on a joke I heard on my high school practice field but I've re-written it so that the body of the story is 750 words. Enjoy.
Written by R.C.PeterGabriel, all rights reserved.
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"Can't you get your Dad's car? If we don't get to the store when it opens that skanky bitch, Sheela will buy up the entire store just to keep us from getting a dress."
"Geeze, I hate her! Okay, I'll ask but you owe me." With that I hung up on my BFF, preparing for the negotiations to come.
Dad always gave me and my brother anything we wanted but for a price. He always said, "The world is a cruel place and you need to earn what you have. Nothing is for free and working hard is the only way to get ahead."
Of course, since I turned eighteen last year the required reimbursements have taken on a different form of currency.
Since time wasn't on my side I went in search of my Father. His room was empty, which surprised me seeing as it was only seven thirty in the morning. That's way early for him since he trades off the Tokyo Exchange. His bathroom and his office turned up empty as well. I was worried that he was out for some reason until I smelled coffee.
I bounced into the kitchen trying to be as perky as I could. Dad usually allowed our negotiations to be tilted in my favor if I was smiling at the time. "Hi, Daddy! You're up early."
"Ugh, not so loud, Baby," was groaned quietly at me in response. "The game went long and I tied one on."
My hopes of a favorable outcome increased as I watched him chase several aspirin tablets down with a swig of bourbon. I grinned inwardly knowing that the only tool in my arsenal that worked better than my smile and puppy dog eyes was sympathy.
I switched tactics and whispered, "Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had a headache. What can I do to make it better?" Not waiting for an answer, I started gently massaging his shoulders and neck. I was rewarded with a groan of appreciation, so I continued for another minute and then encouraged him to sit. Once he did, I poured him some coffee.
Normally when he's in this condition he takes his coffee black with three-quarters "hair of the dog". But I needed him to survive my little request so I only flavored his cup with about five percent bourbon instead of seventy-five. I kissed his cheek as I set the cup in front of him.
