My Daddy "The Fonz"

Chapter 6/Part 1: The Next Day

~This is a bit longer of a chapter...I guess that's what happens when I don't write for a while. It just all spills out. Hope you enjoy! Sorry, a bit tired so there could be some errors. Hopefully it's still fun! :)

Bobby's POV:

I wake up curled beside Daddy's ribs on his bed. Then I remember what happened last night and rub my butt. At least it doesn't hurt anymore. Gosh, I wonder if he'll ever do that again. I sure hope not. Before I can think my next thought, I see Daddy's eyes begin to open, and he looks at me. He seems confused at first, but I'm not sure why.

"Oh, good morning, Bobby. I almost forgot I had a kid for a second...thought it was all a–never mind," Daddy says, rubbing his tired face. "Oof. I'm beat today." He then turns over and looks at his clock. "And it's already 8:40am. Was supposed to be at work at 8am. Oh well." He plops his head back on his pillow and stares at the ceiling. "Well, I guess we should just stay home today, huh?"

Did I hear him right? Stay home? From school? Wow. I gasp and nod, hoping he really means it. "Yeah!" This may just be the best day ever.

Daddy smiles and gives me a hug. "Alright, but let's not make this a habit. How about you get dressed and I just take you somewhere fun on my bike?"

Why would I say no to that? Before he can change his mind, I zoom off the bed to get ready.

Fonzie's POV:

I shake my head at the kid's excitement. What a funny guy. Huh. Now what do I do? The kid's seven. I can't take him to a bar–well, at least I shouldn't anyway. I do want to do something fun with him, something he doesn't get to do everyday...I suppose I could take him to work with me. That way I don't get myself in too much trouble. Oh wait! I'm the boss, and it's my mechanics shop (A/N: my added canon), so I can do whatever the h*ll I want. Maybe I'll ask Bobby what he thinks.

Brushing my hair as I go, I find Bobby in the living room on the couch, just sitting there. Bobby looks at me with a sad look.

"What is it?" I offer.

"I just remembered that Mommy didn't bother getting me anything to wear. She only dropped me off here with what I'm wearing."

"Oh, Bobs," I say, rubbing his back. "Come. Let's make a day of it. I'll take you shopping how 'bout? And get you a nice, manly haircut (A/N: yes, in the 50's the misogyny, sexism and toxic masculinity are very real)?" I can tell Bobby can hardly contain himself, so I pull him up on my hip before he goes zipping off somewhere. "Don't worry. I'll make sure it's a store where only cool guys go, guys like you and me," I say.

He laughs at this. What a kid. "Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I maybe get some toys too?"

I hesitate, but then it dawns on me that the kid's only a kid. "Sure, why not, but nothing too expensive. I'm not that rich."

Anyway, so after coaxing the little kid onto my bike (and him hanging onto me for dear life–and of course he had a helmet, sheesh), we swing on over to a men's multipurpose warehouse where we can get haircuts for cheap.

"The works?" The barber asks as we step up to the swivel chair. The nice thing is at this time, there's no one in here but us–no other customers.

"Yes please," Bobby screams. By the way, he's still attached to my hip and right next to my head.

"Yeah, why don't you cut my ears off too while you're at it," I say, my ears bleeding from Bobby.

The barber laughs and gives the kid a lollipop. "Okay, kiddo, sit up in this big chair here." Bobby basically jumps off of me and climbs onto the chair.