Author's Note: This is a storyline that I've pitched to a few writers over time; none of whom took me up on it, so while I'm using it to get some practice it size and pacing for my Curtis of the Future story (still coming!). Boris, I haven't forgotten your P.A.D. suggestion. I just finished settling on the configuration of the mockup. It'll be coming!

Disclaimer: I don't own Phil of the Future. I just love the series!

Father's Day

Adorned with a fresh pillow and blanket, the cozy couch in the living room was already prepared for Keely tonight. No one was watching the movie being played; instead, they were waiting for answers that just weren't coming.

"I thought you daddy was dead."

WHHAPP! Phil's aim had his sister eating a throw pillow sandwich. It was returned in kind, along with Pim's tattling, "Dad, Cheesenut threw a pillow in my face and he's ugly."

"Cheesenut ... I mean "Phil," stop throwing pillows at your sister."

"(And stop being ugly.)"

"And stop being ugly, Phil."

"(Cheesenut.)"

"Cheesenut."

Barbara bopped Pim in the puss with the pillow for taking advantage of her impressionable accomplice.

"Not dead. Gone. Left. Now he's back."

"What Girlie do?"

"Mom told me to sit tight, Curtis." Looking up, Keely laughed as Curtis tried to push himself deeper into the chair. "I mean, to stay here, for now. I think she's going to try what she tried last time, to convince him that I don't live with her anymore."

"You always have a home with us, Keels," comforted her boyfriend.

"Yeah, you practically live here anyway."

SWISH! Another pillow went sailing past Pim's head.

"Hey, I was helping."

"I know. That was for making me call Phil "Cheesenut" earlier."

"Nice one, Dad, but you have to work on your aim."

"Thanks, Phil. I know, I'm just not getting the control with these throw pillows that I do when your mother and I pillow fight in the bedroom."

"Lloyd!"

"I'll explain it later."

"No, you won't."

"No, I won't."

"Bernoulli Principle, Dad?"

"Exactly."

"Lloyd."

"What were we talking about?"

Keely cracked a smile. She loved her adorably wacky surrogate family. Even Pim. Grabbing tonight's pillow, she hugged it close to her stomach like a child with a teddy bear. Keely looked vulnerable, stressed out more than a Messhersmidt's mid-term. Mostly though, she was worried for her mother.

"Frank, she's not here. It's time for you to leave before I call the police."

Frank didn't offer any response. He just walked through the house as if he still owned it, studying the walls and knick-knack shelves. Yes, pussycats galore. How they once came in handy for terrorizing his wife and daughter to obey him. That, midnight whispers while they would be considered safe in their beds, the burns that long sleeves concealed even in summer. Frank was one sick puppy. He had abused the people he should have protected and cherished most of all in this world and by talking to him, you wouldn't be able to perceive that he cared about them more than toys. His eyes stopped, finding what he was searching for. "Not here, huh? What's this?"

Mandy's mind went blank, then dark.