Prompt: send me a symbol and i will write a drabble about my muse from the point of view of…
Prompt symbols: (Mars symbol) My muse's father and/or (Venus symbol) My muse's mother
I decided to try my hand at both parents.
This is post-canon, just before Shelly starts high school.
Sharon sat in the waiting room at the orthodontist's office, scrolling through her Facebook feed. She could hardly concentrate on Sheila's latest family photo or Liane's newest culinary creation. Today was a banner day in her daughter's life.
Sharon was pulled out of her thoughts by a familiar voice.
"Mom, it's gone! That fucking headgear is finally gone!"
Sharon bit back the "Language!" that was on the tip of her tongue as she glimpsed her now braces-free daughter.
Her heart swelled at the sight.
Shelly was beaming. Honest to god, genuinely beaming. Sharon couldn't remember the last time that her daughter had worn a smile that reached her eyes.
"Sweetie, you look beautiful!" Sharon exclaimed. She was obviously a bit biased. After all, every mother thought that their children were beautiful. However, her daughter was truly, almost objectively gorgeous. She had pretty, delicate features that were no longer obscured by that awful headgear. Her pale blue eyes, normally clouded with rage, sparkled radiantly. She had run a brush through her hair before entering the waiting room and it fell just past her shoulders in a perfect caramel brown waterfall.
"This calls for a celebration! Your father and brother are waiting for us at Buca de Faggoncini."
Shelly smiled wider, showing off her now perfect teeth.
Randy tapped his foot impatiently. He was starving. Did braces removal really take that long?
"Dad, they're here!" Stan exclaimed, tugging at his father's sleeve.
Randy did a double take as his wife entered the restaurant with her fourteen-year-old self.
This must be some potent ass weed, he thought to himself. I'm seeing double, except that I'm seeing people with themselves from the past! I need to market this shit! Randy made a mental note to call Towelie later.
"H-hi Shelly," Stan stammered to Sharon's clone. He braced himself, as if he was anticipating a pummeling. "You - you look nice."
"Hey, turd. Thanks." Sharon Jr. punched Stan on the shoulder affectionately.
Randy did another double take. He only knew one person who used the word "turd" as a term of endearment. Was this really his daughter? Where was the scowl, the constantly radiating anger?
Randy blinked. Shelly looked so much like her mother that it scared him. She was every bit as beautiful as Sharon was at that age, if not more so.
Which meant that the thing that he had been dreading for the past two years was going to happen soon.
Scratch that. It was happening right this second.
Randy sent a death glare towards the teenage boy at the next table who was busy gawking at Shelly.
He wasn't ready for this. He would never be ready for this.