Squeak

Perverts in Costumes

Erik

"Jesus Christ, toughen up, kid," I chuckled when we disembarked the Phantom Manor ride. To say Izabel wasn't fond of the spooky ride was an understatement. Her knees knocked as she attempted to put as much distance as possible between the ride and herself, and her face had turned a ghastly shade of white.

"It was so scary, Daddy Erik," she whimpered, making a beeline to her mother on legs that moved like jelly.

"Scary?" I scoffed. "That wasn't anywhere close to scary."

"Give me my Minnie ears back," Izabel demanded.

"Why?" I asked, clutching the ears on top of my head.

"Because they're mine."

"But you didn't say please. It's important to use our manners, Squirt. I'm not raising a little monster."

She squeaked just like her mother did when we were younger.

"I'm not a monster," she argued.

"For now, you're not. I have a feeling puberty won't go so smoothly for us."

"Did you enjoy the ride?" Jezebel asked cheerfully as we approached. She was munching on a chocolate croissant and wearing Minnie Mouse ears on her head.

"It was bloody horrendous!" Izabel proclaimed, climbing onto the bench beside her mother.

"Bloody horrendous, huh? Gee, I wonder where you picked that up from," Jezebel drawled.

That idiot who's galivanting around this predator theme park with my mother.

Elliot and Helen arrived for breakfast together and claimed they'd run into each other. Elliot, being the proper English gent he was, pulled out the chair for my mother, and her flirty giggling nearly made me throw up.

I'd never been more perplexed in my entire life, and I feared the last thread of sanity my mother had would snap when she discovered Elliot's true identity. After breakfast, I punched that motherfucker in the gut and made him lose his eggs benedict and Earl Grey.

I plopped down on the bench beside Jezebel and took a bite out of her croissant when she was distracted by Izabel.

"Erik!"

"Sushi," I said, reminding her of her past transgression. The corner of her full lips lifted in a smirk.

"Okay...you got me. You can have it," she said, offering the pastry to me.

I scowled. "Why are you being so generous?" I asked, eyeing the croissant suspiciously.

"Because I'm always prepared," she said before pulling another chocolate croissant out of her Disney-themed canvas bag.

"Mommy, may I have a bite of your croissant?" Izabel asked, batting her eyelashes at her mother.

"Ask your dad. He has four years of sharing food to make up for," she said nonchalantly. I polished off the remainder of the croissant while Izabel tried to convince Jezebel that sharing was caring.

"Daddy Erik?"

"What's up, Squirt?"

"May I have—where's the croissant?" I rubbed my stomach and licked my lips. Izabel opened her mouth to protest when we were joined by Elliot and Helen. "Papa! I want a chocolate croissant."

Elliot grimaced at Izabel before taking her hand and pulling her off the bench. "I swear this child has a bottomless pit for a stomach," he complained before hoisting her onto his shoulders.