Principals Aren't Meant To Be Hot What The Fuck

What The Fuck He's Hot

  Jack woke up with a headache from whatever the hell he drank the night before, and a sharp pain in his spine. Even the thousand-thread-count bedsheets couldn't soften the pain enough. And he really just wanted to go back to sleep, never wake up, and live in dreamland. But with the responsibilities of his children, he needed to get up. So as soon as he moved, he hissed out, keeping in a bundle of swears while he lifted himself up. His spine ached even more. He blinked tiredly, looking around the blurry room. His vision always took a second to adjust, whether it was dark or not, and the sun shined through the drapes.

  He got up from the bed, in socks, boxers and a t-shirt, and walked over to the bathroom. All he needed to do was pop his painkillers, take whatever else he needed, brush his teeth and get dressed. Today was--what day was it again? Monday? Likely. So he also needed to take John Jr. to school, get Caroline to Kindergarten, and take care of Patrick at the same time. He would definitely need coffee.

  He unscrewed the bottle carrying his painkillers and took the recommended dosage dry, since he had gotten so used to it that he didn't always need water, even if it helped. He took a look in the mirror; messy, red-brown hair, bloodshot brown eyes, and he could tell a stubble was about to start growing. But that morning he didn't really feel like shaving, it'd take too long, and he still needed to get the kids to school. With a sigh, he splashed water on his face, took the rest of his pills, and didn't look in the mirror anymore. It'd just lower his self-esteem and he desperately needed coffee.

  The outfit for the day was a simple blue, striped button-up, khaki pants, and running shoes. The true 'I'm-depressed' look for him. Besides, he had nobody to look pretty for. With a spray of cologne on himself, deodorant, and one last thought of why he couldn't go back to bed, Jack made his way to the bedroom door and opened it.

  The air of the hallway hit him and he walked downstairs, not surprised to see his three little children sitting in the kitchen and waiting for him. John Jr., who wore an outfit nearly identical to his father's, sat in his chair. Caroline had on a cute dark red dress and a small little bow in her hair, looking like a little angel, and the small Mary Janes made her even cuter. Patrick was in John's arms, in a small purple t-shirt, shorts and soft fabric shoes. When Jack appeared, John smiled widely. "Papa!"

  "Hey, little man. You ready for school? Got your backpack all ready?" Jack said, a smile appearing on his face. Even tired, even sleep-deprived, his children could make him smile.

  "Mhm! Pencils, erasers, ...all the other stuff I don't remember." John finished slowly, and he got up from his chair to hand Patrick to his father. Jack took Patrick gently, the baby cooing happily and pawing at his father's face. He smiled even wider. He kissed the baby's cheek, walking over to the baby couch seat (It costed over two-hundred dollars. Still likely not worth it, but also worth it at the same time.) and putting Patrick inside of it before going over to the coffee machine. He needed at least one cup today: all trips to the school sucked. Every. Single. Time.

  The children talked while he made the coffee, putting in his own words once or twice, and when the coffee finished he took a sip and looked at the time on the stove.

7:54AM.

  ...Shit. To get from Primary School to Kindergarten in six minutes with a baby... He'd have to cut corners. 

  With one massive gulp-down of the coffee, he put the mug down and grabbed John's small hand. "Alright, come on, Caroline, get your bag." he said hastily. Caroline waddled over to her red backpack, and Patrick's coo from the couch seat reminded him oh shit he'd need to carry a baby at the same time fuck--so he quickly ran from the couch to the front door again to pick Patrick up. John already had his backpack in his own hands, so he watched his father act like a madman.