My Daddy "The Fonz"

Chapter 7/Part 1: Finally Bobby's First Day of School (TW: Spanking)

Fonzie's POV:

So, guess what? I'm a genius. I came up with this foolproof way of making sure Bobby ain't late for school, and I ain't late for work. In ten minutes, I was able to get the kid and myself completely dressed and ready for the day. Wanna know how I did it? It's called combining all the steps into one big one. I made Bobs some toast with jam and set that on his night stand while I laid out his clothes on the bed. Botta-bing, botta-boom, the kid scarfed down his food, and with a little encouragement and help, he was able to dress pretty well at the same time. Granted, he did have to brush his hair in half the time, but with a bit of hair gel, this was easy. Perhaps tonight I'll have the squirt sleep in his clothes for the next day, that way the process goes even quicker. Course while all this was happening, I managed to jump into my own clothes and scarf down my own food–but I've tamed my hair in such a way now that it obeys me with just one flick of my comb. Pristine. I'm talented, that's for sure. The only challenge was brushing our teeth. This had to happen while we drove to our respective places–on my motorcycle no less. Let's just say this got a little messy. This was a trick because Bobby had his brown bagged lunch in one hand and toothbrush in the other, not allowing him to hold onto me that well. Don't worry, I drove slow, but I might not try that again. I was hopin' to get Mrs. C or Richie to take the kid to school, but we slept in too much. I wouldn't want to make them late for their things. Anyway, now I'm at work. Bobby clung to my waist and obviously didn't want me leaving him at school, but I bribed him with a day at my work if he behaved. We'll see how that goes.

Bobby's POV:

I can't believe Daddy would just leave me here without even saying hi to my teacher. Wouldn't he wanna know I was safe? Mrs. Goldberg is a nightmare. I have to be real good or else she smacks me with a ruler or worse–locks me in a dark closet. I think I hate the dark because of her. I wish that Mommy would've listened because then I would've gotten to switch schools. The other horrible thing about this school is there are so many bullies here who steal my lunch. They have lots of fun with it too–and if I don't cry, then they'll dunk my head in the trash can or kick me or give me a wedgie. How does any kid survive school? I wish Daddy would just let me go with him everywhere. I'm gonna be an adult anyway someday. Why not today?

I sit my brown bag lunch in my lap and hide it under my desk so I can have a chance of eating it today. I keep my eyes on the chalkboard, that way I might not get in any trouble. This is easy enough to do for me because I don't get along with most of the kids in my class. This teacher hates it when we talk. Whenever she hears one of us talk–even a whisper–she either takes out the dang ruler or makes us sit in the corner with our hands over our mouths. So, like I said, I best just keep my eyes forward.

"Class, what is 9 X 7? Anyone?"

I wiggle in my seat when she sees me. She counts to ten, and if no one answers, then she calls on the one who looks the most nervous–which half the time is me. I'm not sure why she's asking us times tables questions. We haven't learned that yet. Sometimes she likes to surprise us. She says it challenges our small brains. She's really not very nice–at all.

"9 X 7...What is the answer, Bobby?" She asks. I can feel her eyes burning me.

"Um..." I pretend I didn't hear the question. "What did you say?"

"I said 'what is 9 X 7? Bobby..."

"Uh, 16?"

"No, it is not 16. That would be if I asked you what 9 + 7 is."

I swear she just wants me to get in trouble. The bully Franklyn to my right snickers. I hate it when kids laugh because I know they don't have a clue what the answer is either. I give him a good glare.