The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes,
That you once wore
Strike another match, girl,
Start anew
It's all over now, baby blue.
It's All Over Now Baby Blue, by Bob Dylan
"Who's Arnold?"
Helga sighed, looked at her feet. Scowled. Leave it to Big Bob not to notice anything about his daughter's life.
She'd just told him about her and Arnold. About their new relationship. And as it seemed there wasn't a thing in the world he could care less about.
She stood and he sat in the trophy/TV/palace room, Bob in a chair and Helga in the hotspot. He scowled at her now, trying to place a name to a face: Arnold. He didn't care too much, but it mildy surprised him that his daughter--though she has Pataki blood--got a boyfriend. That weird wheezy kid who was always hanging out by the trashcans? Nah.
He lost interest. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Tell Miriam to go light on the gravy tonight." Helga growled something in response, under her breath, and Bob went back to the paper.
And then he saw the sports page and it clicked: Arnold. Blonde, football-shaped head.
"Hey, girl!" Helga turned around, eyebrow raised. Patent Pataki scowl. Bob said, "Arnold the grandson of that old jerk that runs the boarding house?"
"Yeah, dad."
"The one who beat me at golf and knocked me into a vat of gelatin at the Parent's Day games?"
"Yep, that's the one." She snickered at the memory.
Bob stood and dropped the paper and raised a hand. Helga stood straight, eyes wide: what was going on?
"I forbid you to see that kid again! I forbid it! No Pataki is gonna' mess around with people of that...caliber."
Great, she thought. He finally notices something about me.
"You can't stop me, dad. I'll see Arnold if I want to!"
"Oh, no you won't, missy! I hear any more about this and there'll be bad trouble, you got me! You aren't gonna' see that kid anymore! Ever!"
"I'd like to see you make me, dad!"
She stormed off, taking her time. Bob grunted something and sat back down, his mind working. How could he keep her away from that kid?
A small voice said, 'Just leave it alone', but like with all other things Bob shoved it under the carpet and reached for the phone. It was time to get ruthless. Time to do business the Big Bob Pataki way.
He grabbed the phone and dialed a number.
Author's Note: The song is from the album Bringing it all Back Home, I think. I'd thank to thank Acosta Perez Jose Ramiro for the idea, which he suggested in a review.
Also: I highly reccomend you read--or at least skim--my story "Guiding Light". Otherwise, some of this might confuse you.
Please read and review!