My Daddy "The Fonz"

Chapter 9/Part 2: The Horror Party

Fonzie's POV:

So the little brat and me had to make a deal for Bobs to even let me invite his whole class to our shindig–this involved letting Joanie participate. I figured there should be no harm in having her join, since Bobby knows her so well, and he can be quite a shy kid, I will say. As long as the kid at least tries to get to know his classmates, then I guess everything should be okay. I told him though, that if he clings to me or her the whole night, then Joanie'll have to go. He seemed agreeable to that.

The first thing on my list is to pick up a few things from the discount party shop. I hear they're supposed to have plenty of cool, gory costumes. I'm pretty stoked about it to be honest, definitely more than Bobby. When I do go check it out though, the store is not quite what I picture, so I end up just buying some cardboard and craft supplies from a store down the street. No one really knows this about me, but I am sort of a creative person. I'm not just good with my hands on cars and women; I'm also pretty handy with a ton of paint. I probably picked up those skills from my thug days when we drew on everything in sight with spray cans. Man, I miss those days. Aw well, these days aren't so bad either. New adventures to be had.

Anyway, I end up with a bike and sidecar full of red and black paint, pipe cleaners, tape, googly eyes, fake bugs and body parts–the lot. No glitter though. Glitter is from the deepest pit of hell. I also found this rad-looking, panty-hosed lady leg I can prop up our fort with. It'll be awesome.

Just before I head home, I decide to snatch Joanie from downstairs–and I find Bobby with her. Naturally. The two are like two carrots in a pod. I think that's how that expression goes.

"Bobs, I thought I told you to stay upstairs to get things ready," I say, allowing the squirt to pop up into my arms. "Do your ears work, ever?"

Bobby just shrugs. "Sometimes."

"More like never," I tease, jabbing him beneath his arms to make him squeal. He's such a fun little dude sometimes.

Joanie giggles and attempts the same thing, which makes Bobby go into hysterics—absolute bonkers. Ouch. She makes him laugh more than I can. That just ain't right.

I sigh in defeat and hold the door open for Shortcake. I figure too I might as well allow her to help get some of the things into our apartment. I WAS hoping for this to be a me and Bobby thing. Oh well. That's life—life with a bossy preteen.

Joanie gives me a grossed out look. "This place is a total wreck, Fonzie. Geez. When was the last time you cleaned up in here?"

I scoff in total disbelief. "Are you kidding? I've spent all morning cleaning. It's just that we've been getting ready-"

"Oh sit on it, Fonzie," Joanie muses with a laugh.

She is the ONLY one who I would allow to get away with that stuff. Otherwise, words would be had. "I should make you stand on top of a stool to be a target for our pie-throwing contest," I jab back. And I mean it too.

Joanie ain't scared of me in the slightest. She's such a fierce kid, that one. Watch out. "A pie throwing contest? Seriously? That's so babyish," Joanie says like she's head of the world's party planning committee or something.

"Yeah, that's for babies," Bobby copies, looking up at Joanie for affirmation.

"Then what do you two have in mind?" I quiz. Like they really have something cool, not near as cool as what I've got in store.

I cut them off before they can get the chance to one-up me. "Do you have the skills to make real-life-looking guts? How about food that looks like eyeballs? Or a way to draw with chalk on the floor to make it look like we're falling off cliffs or walking on lava? Huh? Or some strong rope to balance on or-"

"Okay! I think we get it, Fonz!" Joanie yells. "Man, you don't have to be all high and mighty all the time. We all know you're the king of everything."

"What's got your panties in a twist there, Shortcake, huh? I thought I was your favorite. Chill a bit. I'm just goofing off with ya." Girls can be so serious when all we guys just wanna do is kid around.

"Well, I already made some awesome spaghetti intestines and chocolate gummy worm pudding with fudge 'dirt' cake. So there."

Bobby rolls his eyes at our mini-contest and starts to dig into our box. "Did you get some marshmallows so we can do s'mores in the wood stove?"

"Course I did. Got everything. Even glow sticks!" I can brag about anything, and kids just soak it up. Can't help but feel my ego getting ready to pop.

Both the kids shout "Oooo" in amazement at all the things I got. I'm pretty proud of myself I must say.

"Alright, you two, let's get to work!"

Joanie and Bobby jump around with their cheap thrills as they empty the box, and even though Joanie acts all like she's too old for this stuff, I can tell she's enjoying this.

Joanie and Bobby are actually (sometimes) more fun to hang out with than with teenagers like Richie. I can't believe I just said that, but it is sorta true. Kids have the imagination for crazy shenanigans. All teens wanna do is get drunk and neck. Even though I do love those things too. What can I say? The Fonz is a universal kinda guy. He can relate to anyone and be simultaneously his own brand of human. That's what makes the "Fonz," the "Fonz."

Anyway, it takes us longer than I'd like to lay everything out because we just can't stay on task when we're all having fun. I decide that the only way we'll be able to get everything done by the time kids start showing up is by making it a game. I realize I can't always be in door knob-polishing, drill sergeant mode. I gotta relax a little, so I decide for us to pretend that the whole apartment will start on fire if we don't hurry up. That really gets 'em moving.

Joanie ends up being the one who handles the wall decor while Bobby does the fort—and I do the main event—which of course is the costumes and scary flare. The fun part of this will be that no one is expecting for tonight to be scary. It ain't even Halloween since we had it last month.

"Fonz, I think we're ready," Joanie states. "But I will say, your chalk art looks more like a swirly mess than, well, art."

"Oh, sit on it, Joanie," I scoff. She wouldn't know "art" if it stung her in the mouth.

Bobby gives me a thumbs up. At least I've got someone's approval.