I realised when writing this chapter that it's original (arguably risky) writing for Ted's primary audience- the kids- to be so bored by the story which the secondary audience- the viewers- have to be invested in.
Obviously characters and some dialogue belong to HIMYM, not to me.
Sparkling
July 2030
"Guess what Dad did a couple of weeks ago,"
"Ramble about bridges? Try to convince you that Coldplay were a decent band?"
"He told us how he met Mom,"
"And it took forever," cuts in Luke, "Like literally hours,"
"He started when he met you," Penny clarifies.
"When he met me? That's ten years before he met your Mom," Robin frowns.
"Tell me about it," groans Luke, "He told us all kinds of stuff you do not want to hear about your dad, let alone about your dad from your dad,"
"Weird stuff about his exes and how he kept rebounding to you, and tonnes of Uncle Barney perviness,"
"My husband, folks. Ho!"
"Our dad!"
"I've been put off both of them for life," shudders Penny.
"Like, some of it was interesting," concedes Luke, "The part where Dad got beat up by a girl was awesome,"
"And a goat,"
"A girl goat!"
"I guess the part with the two-minute date is cute in theory, but not if it actually happened," muses Penny, "Same with at the beginning when he told you he loved you on your first date,"
"When you were totally just there cos you wanted a bang-bang-bangity-bang," Luke sniggers.
"Hey! That date led to your dad and me becoming best friends," Robin says defensively, "And I liked him very much on our first date,"
"He tried to make it sound like when he met you was really important in him meeting Mom, cos if he never met you, you would never have married Uncle Barney so there wouldn't be a wedding, so Dad wouldn't have met Mom. We didn't buy it though; his story was an excuse to tell us a mixture of creepy stories and lame-ass moral crap,"
"I swear to God you fell asleep for a while," Penny accuses her brother.
"Yeah, I drifted off around the Autumn of Splitsville," he admits, "Woke up in time for you and Uncle Barney to get engaged though,"
"Again," Penny interjects, "That proposal was cute in theory, but- no, actually, not cute in theory. Screwed up and manipulative in theory and in practise," she evaluates, "I'd've said no. I'd've punched him,"
"Thanks for your input, Pen,"
"The amount of proposals and unproposals all you guys had was insane,"
"Everyone makes mistakes in relationships…and your dad-"
"Made billions!" laughs Luke, "Mom was the third girl he got engaged to, how nuts is that? And did you really appear in a commercial for adult diapers?"
"He told you that story?" Robin cringes.
Luke sniggers again, "And the one where you got to second base with Not Neil Young, and the one when you inspired a drinking game-"
"And the one when you and Uncle Barney did the Murtagh list-"
"-and the one when you nearly got deported...although I think that was twice, wasn't it?"
"There were a lot about Uncle Marshall and Aunt Lily as well," interjects Penny fairly, "Like their Hallowe'en costumes and when Aunt Lily pretended to be a hunchback, and Marshall Versus The Machines, and-"
"So basically Ted told you every dumb thing we did for ten years. Great,"
"Hey!" calls Ted's voice from the kitchen, "Can one of you two come help with the plates?"
"Dibs you!" yells Luke, and so Penny jabs him in the ribs and goes to help Ted with dinner. Robin tries to change the subject from Ted's marathon embarrassment saga, by launching into asking Luke how his school play is going. He's in the middle of explaining why he would much rather be playing Caliban than Ferdinand, when Tracy and Barney return home from the shops laden with ice-cream and crisps and beer and Coke. Not long after that, Ted's burgers, chicken wings and corn on the cobs are ready, and everybody crams onto the sofa and chairs in the den to watch the World Cup final. And Ted's odyssey isn't mentioned until a few weeks later when Luke checks with Barney about how he obtained those mariachi costumes.
However, on the train home that evening after the World Cup, Robin remembers something. A pair of teenage siblings- a boy and a girl- sitting beside one another on a couch, growing increasingly bored by one of their parents telling them how they met the other. Except they weren't Ted's kids, they were her own; her smirking, Suited-Up son and her pale, pretty, dark-haired daughter. They were sat beside a Stormtrooper, listening to how she met Barney.
Kids, have I ever told you the story of how I met your father?
"I'm pregnant," "Are you sure you're not just getting fat?"
"If I'm pregnant, you're the dad," "That's wonderful!"
"I don't want kids, I've never wanted kids, and never in a million years, will I ever want kids!"
"You know: meet a nice guy, get married, vault some poles… but I never wanted that. Of course, it's one thing not to want something, it's another to be told you can't have it. I guess it's just nice knowing that you could someday do it if you changed your mind…but now, all of a sudden, that door is closed,"
"It's not your job to cheer me up," "Yes it is. Cheering you up ismy job,"
If you want to know the truth of it, I'm glad you guys aren't real.
The story's real but the kids aren't- so the story won't be told. And it's ironic, isn't it, that Ted- whose shoulder she cried on that night in December, who cancelled his Christmas holiday for her and didn't ask why- Ted's the one who ended up telling his children the same sort of story. Well, is it ironic?, Robin reconsiders, surely it makes sense. Ever since Robin met him, Ted's longed for the opportunity to spin yarns for his children- and she never did, never has. The children were always Ted's to have. The story was always Ted's to tell.
Robin imagines Luke and Penny slumped on the couch listening to Ted rattle on, and then her mind blurs the Mosby two into her own children; the ones she imagined years ago. On that bitter night in Central Park with a bottle of eggnog and a cold heart, Robin both mourned those two ghostly children and was glad that they weren't real- and now she feels a similar contradictory relieved grief. She and Ted both got what they wanted, but that doesn't mean that she can't regret not having what she never did want.
Robin's sitting in a four-seat arrangement in the train. She's in the seat next to window with Barney beside her, swearing under his breath while he checks his phone for the results of his World Cup bets. There's a table in front of her. And opposite, two empty seats where the children she won't have don't sit.
Thanks for your time. I don't know if the ending of this chapter seems to brief, or if Ted's telling of the story should have been on a more significant occasion than here when it was just on a random day. Whatever your opinion, please let me know in a review. Thanks again.
