*** I don't own any of these characters. Stephine Meyer created them. I'm just mocking them. The title is based off of the children's book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. Thanks to both of them for the fun I'm about to poke. ***

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James could feel the migraine coming on as Victoria unlocked the apartment door. "So, that damn cat is on the loose again, and I think I just ran over- What the hell is that?" She had stopped in the kitchen doorway, staring in disbelief.

"I'm not sure, but it comes with an attitude." 'He knew full well what 'It' was. 'It' was a sullen, glowering, spiky-haired eight-year-old, that as of yet, had yet to say a word since being deposited in his kitchen. 'It's' sudden appearance had resulted in James spending the past twenty minutes alternating between wishing he had never gone to college, and engaging in staring contests with the reason behind his regrets. "But I think it's hungry."

"'But I think it's hungry?'" Victoria mocked. "That's the best you can do? It's hungry?"

"'It' can hear you, you know," the girl interjected, scowling. "And 'It' has a name."

"Wonderful. And what other wonderful attributes does 'It' have, besides a smart mouth?" James snapped, the last of his self control gone.

"Mom says I get it from you." There was a triumphant tone to the retort.

"James, while I respect that you had a life before me, I don't appreciate the baggage that accompanies that fact being paraded around our home," Victoria said coolly. "And to which of your lovely ex's do we owe the thank you?"

"Alice." James muttered.

At the same time, the girl piped up with "None of your beeswax." The comment was accompanied by the sudden appearance of her tongue. This was obviously too much for Victoria to handle.

"You little-" A string of obscenities came spewing out, before she rounded on James. "Let me know when you've taken care of-" She waved her hand at the girl.

"Mary," she volunteered.

"That… thing." Victoria ignored her completely. "Then we'll talk."

"Vicky…"

"No. It won't work this time. Good-bye, James." Turning on her heel, she stalked out.

James pinched the bridge of his nose. Defiantly a migraine. "Great, kid, just great. You are so like your mother."

Mary giggled. "What?" he demanded.

"Mom says the same about you. Now can we get something to eat? I'm famished."

He sighed. "Yes, fine, whatever. I just have one question. What exactly do you eat?"

She grinned. "Jasper says I can eat anything that doesn't eat me first."

"Jasper?"

"Mom's new boyfriend. She says he's the one. And you know Mom. She's never wrong."

Sighing again, he got to his feet. "I know. That's why I broke up with her."

"Mom says that she left you. For an older guy that worked with her."

"Do you ever stop talking?" He headed towards the bathroom, praying the Excedrin bottle was full. "And exactly how long am I stuck with you?"

She was skipping in an attempt to keep up, following him down the hall. "Until I feel like we've had enough bonding time. Jasper says we need to foster a strong, positive relationship; otherwise my mental development and emotional growth could be stunted, or even halted permanently."

"And how long is this supposed to take?" He was going to need a drink. A really stiff drink.

"I don't know. We have to make up for the eight years you've missed, and then maintain it at a level that matches my maturity. So probably a while." She was smiling happily, perched on the toilet as he rooted through the medicine cabinet.

"What kind of books are they letting you read? You sound like this psych major that I..." James shook his head, trying to clear it. "Where are you getting all this from?"

"Jasper."

"And your mom is sure that he's the one."

"Absolutely. She says he exudes positive energy and charisma. Not to mention has a stable job, a sense of humor, and looks like a movie star."

"Of course." Giving up on the cabinet, he began ransacking the drawers.

"Okay, so I'm the only one that thinks the last part, but I'm sure she thinks he's cute, too."

Slamming the last one shut, he bent down and started digging below the sink. "But Mom says you had a better voice. Like one of those guys on the car commercials. The expensive ones. And your butt was cuter. Other than that... Can I help?"

"Yes. You can stop talking." There was no Excedrin to be found. Now he was just hoping for mouthwash. It would work until he could get his hands on a bottle of whiskey. Or a whiskey bottle. Either would alleviate the problem.

Mary, of course, kept going. "Jasper's a psychologist. Mom says that means he's fully in touch with himself, because unless he's mastered his own problems, he can't help others with theirs."

"That's great. You know, I liked you better when you were just staring." Takethehinttakethehinttakethehint. Straightening, the back of his head slammed into the medicine cabinet door. "FUCK!"

"Mom says that kind of language is inappropriate for polite society," Mary said primly.

"You know what? If I gave a rat's ass about what your mother thought, I'd still be with her, wouldn't I?"

"Nope." She popped the 'p'. "Remember, she left you."

"Alright. That's it. We're going to McDonalds, getting you some food, and then driving straight to your mother's place, and we're both going to pretend that today didn't happen, and we're both blissfully unaware of each other. You can build that positive relationship with Jason-"

"Jasper," Mary corrected.

"Whatever-the-fuck his name is, and I can rebuild my relationship with Vicky."

"But-"

"No. We're done. I don't like kids, especially not smart-mouthed brats."

"But Mom says-"

"Have we not already established that I do not care what your mother thinks?" James demanded angrily. "She is the only woman that broke up with me, and not the other way around, and I can honestly say that if she hadn't, I would have more than likely have broken her neck."

"Fine. Let me have stunted emotional growth!"

"I will!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Go die!"

"You know what?" Grinning slowly, James held the bathroom door open. "I think we could work something out."

The anger slowly faded from her face. "I won't tell Mom if you buy me a McFlurry. She won't let me have them."

"Deal."

"And do I get my own room?"

"Maybe."

"No more cursing, either." Mary hopped off the toilet.

"I'll work on it. Now hurry up. I want to beat rush-hour." He gestured to the door.

"Fine," she griped. "Oh, and no Vicky. She's mean."

"Now you're just pushing it."

"But-"

"I said, we'll talk."

"Oh, and one more thing-" she added, starting down the hallway.

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"That's it. I'm telling." She ran for the door. James didn't bother following. He simply turned, and started banging his head against the nearest wall.