"Good morning, Sam." I said as I poured myself a bowl of cereal and a cup of O.J.
"Morning, hon." She said, looking over the morning paper.
"How you feeling this morning?" I asked, as I sat down and kissed her on the forehead.
"A lot better than yesterday."
You, see we're expecting another child, in addition to our one year old son, Daniel James Fenton, Jr. This one however, is not mine, but I've promised to raise it and love it like it was mine. Oh, it's not that Sam's unfaithful, but there was a period of time about six months ago when both of us were incarcerated in separate cells in a special high-tech prison/lab designed for me to test my powers without my consent because of a death that was the result of a freak accident caused by my Ghostly Wail. Anyhow, Dash Baxter, assisted by Kwan Chang, the two cruel guards, threatened and beat the living crap out of me, sometimes within an inch of my life, but worst of all, Dash raped Sam as Kwan stood by and watched. The two of them were sentenced to life in prison without parole for one count of first degree rape, one count of accessory to rape, and two counts of violation of the eighth amendment.
"Read anything interesting?"
"No. Oh, my God."
"What is it?"
"Dash and Kwan have escaped. Oh, Danny, I'm so scared. What if they come back for me?" She buried her face in her hands and broke down into huge sobs.
"Sh. Sh. There, there. You'll be okay. It's just hormones." I said, as I pull her into an embrace and rubbed her back with my right hand. We sat there for a few minutes before Danny started crying. "I'll get that."
"Would you? My back's killing me."
"Good morning, Danny"
"Dada." Danny had been talking for some months now.
"Yes, that's right, 'dada'." I picked him up and brought him downstairs to the kitchen. "You hungry? Let's see what we have to eat today." I said as I put Danny in his highchair and started looking through the Gerber's jars. "Strained peas? Yecch. Banana? Maybe. Ooh apple. Here we go." I got out an airplane spoon, a sippy cup, and poured Danny some orange juice.
"I'll feed him, Dan."
"No, I can do it." I said as I opened up the jar and stirred its contents around. "Alright Danny open up, here comes the airplane. Come on, open the hangar." Nothing would get that kid's mouth open, so I pretended to eat a little of it. "Mmm."
"See, Danny? Daddy likes it." Sam said.
"Thanks, dear." I muttered. "Come on, Danny, open the hangar." This time it worked. "Down the hatch." That was how the rest of breakfast went that day: I fed Danny a little of his breakfast, I ate a little of mine, and so on and so on.
One good thing about being an astronaut: I have a lot of time to spend with my family. The only times I don't get to spend with my family are the few months of training, as well as the actual flights.
"Oof. Danny, the baby's kicking. Want to feel it?"
"Sure." I said, putting my ear up against her belly. Sure enough, I felt a small, sudden push.
"Hey, whaddya know? Say, I was wondering what you want to name it?"
"I was thinking of letting you name her, since I named Danny."
"I was thinking of Jessica if it's a girl, Charles if it's a boy."
All of a sudden we heard the sounds of Wolfgang, our Bernese Mountain dog puppy chasing after Marius, our lynx-point Siamese, a couple pets we got to inhibit asthma and allergies in the kids. Plus Sam likes cats while I always wanted a dog.
Not much happened today when Sam was at work (She had a PhD in medicine and was now dedicating her work life to wiping out cancer, a disease which took her sister's life at a very early age). Well, one thing did happen.
"Schwarzenegger Institute, how may I help you?"
"Yes, I'd like to speak with Sam Fenton, please?"
"Hold, please." The receptionist said as I heard "Remember" by one of my many nemeses, Ember McLain.
"Hello?"
"Sam, I've got great news." I said, barely able to control myself.
"Go on."
"Danny took his first step today."
"Great! Are you taping it?"
"Yes, I am."
"Sweet. I'll watch it when I get home."
"Very good, Danny." I told him as I sat him on my knee and opened a copy of one of the "Clifford, the Big Red Dog" books I found at a Tag Sale. He looked up at me with those big, green eyes and laughed one of those sweet, heartwarming laughs that toddlers do. I couldn't help but smile back as I rubbed his head full of snowy hair.
Suddenly, and without warning, my ghost sense went off. Thank god that ghost shield my parents installed as a wedding gift was up 24/7.
"BEWARE, for I am the box ghost!"
Know what, never mind.
Oh, my god, not this guy again "I'll be right back, Danny." I said as I picked up my son and put him on the couch, figuring this would only take a couple seconds. "Going ghost! You really take yourself seriously, don't you?" I asked as I changed outside.
"Yes, for I am the bo-"
"Yeah, 'box ghost' I kinda got that. Like I didn't hear you the first time." I dispatched him with my ghostly wail. "Now to back to quality time with Danny."
But when I got home, I couldn't find Danny anywhere. He wasn't upstairs, downstairs, he wasn't anywhere. Sam's going to kill me. I feared the worst. They were confirmed by a voice behind me.
"Looking for something?"
A/N: Will Danny ever find his son? Will Sam ever find out that Danny junior has gone missing? Who is the mysterious voice? Will Lois Lane ever find out that Supreman is, in fact, mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent? Where's my TV remote? The answers to some of these questions next time on "My Most Bitter Friend And Dearest Enemy.