My Daddy "The Fonz"

Chapter 11/Part 3: Spike and Homework Don't Mix

Fonzie's POV:

Good day today so far. I helped the boys get ready for school and even got 'em to school alive–and on time. I gotta say, I'm pretty proud of myself. Only thing is Higgins never got Spike a backpack, so I sent him in with an old briefcase. At least he was looking dapper. For me, work was uneventful. Good all around! This dad thing is a breeze, well, sometimes. And well, I gotta say, no bumps or bruises for Spike or Bobby in class either–at least none that I've heard about. Principal Higgins never once called me today. Not once. This has gotta be some sort of record! I might let both kids have some fun for good behavior. They're coming home soon. Yeah, we'll try to have some fun. 

The boys look to be in good moods as they enter the apartment. They stand in front of the kitchen table, waiting for me to make them a snack. It's kinda funny how much taller Spike is than Bobby when they stand right next to each other. I guess it makes sense, since Spike is a few years older, however Bobs is short for his age. They look about ten years apart.

Anyway, drama of course has to ensue, now that Spike is under my wing. It doesn't take long for him to start rebel-rousing, first just some annoying stuff. Hopefully it doesn't escalate. For instance, Bobby knows to wait patiently when I'm preparing him food. Spike–not so much.

"Fonzie!" Spike whines. "You're taking forever, and I'm hungry!" He stamps his foot like he's actually younger than Bobby.

I look at him. "Kid, hold your horses. Did you not eat your lunch?"

He comes closer to the table and sets his chin on its surface, pouting. "Yeah, but it wasn't enough. I'm bigger than Bobby, ya know. I can hold more food."

My eyebrows raise. "Oh, is that so? I guess that makes sense. But you can still be patient. Look how patient Bobby is being. Copy him."

I'm trying to be patient myself, I really am. I know I'm not so great at that. Don't have a great track record. But I really am trying.

"You're so slow. How hard is it to cut up some apple? Let me do it!" Spike reaches for the knife in my hand, however, I can see miles ahead of him and lift it above his head.

Bobby gasps. "Oh, you're gonna be in so much trouble. Daddy doesn't like it when we do dangerous stuff. Or have an attitude."

An exasperated sigh escapes my mouth. "Yeah, thanks Bobby." After setting the knife on top of a high surface, I take a step toward Spike. "You better get your ass in the corner, pronto. I don't tolerate your gross lack of judgment. You don't just go grabbing a knife out of someone's hand like that, buddy. You could've gotten seriously hurt. If I did that to some guy on the street, I'd be dead. Live by the knife, die by the knife. Now go."

Spike gives me this "you can't tell me what to do" look. That look don't fly with me. He's about to regret even thinking about challenging the Fonz. No way, Jose, is he getting away with that. Not today. Not ever.

"Raymond Spike–I will not put up with your shit. Get your ass in that corner before I count to three."

"Whoa, Daddy swore. He's really mad, Spike. You should probably listen," Bobby warns.

Good boy. I start counting. "One–Spike."

He don't move.

"Two," I spit. "Did you hear me? I said T-W-O."

He still don't move. Not an inch.

"So?" Spike spits back.

Oh, he is so close to getting pain. He needs to learn what obedience means. "Th–"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I grunt in frustration and point at Spike. "You are one lucky SOB. Stay."