Yello, folksies! Listenin' to Good Charlotte on me's computy. Wow, I talk weird. Let's try that in English. I'm listening to Good Charlotte on the computer. Makes more sense, but less fun to say. Oh, before I forget, any of the characters in any of my stories that I didn't make up don't belong to me. Aren't I specific
"Time to get up!"
"Mmph."
"C'mon. It's breakfast."
"No mphm. Sleep."
"C'mon Helen, I've had enough trouble with the kids!" Bob pleaded with his wife. But Elastigirl was not leaving that bed anytime soon. He sighed and left the room. He went down the stairs where he ate breakfast across from two drowsy, rumpled-hair kids. And a baby who was playing with a little miniature thunderstorm he'd created above his apple-mosh.
Bob couldn't take it anymore. "Lookin' forward to school, kids?"
"Mmm."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"Mmm."
"Come again?"
"WE SAID 'NO!'" the kids shouted at him. (A/N c'mon, admit it, you've done that to your parents at one point in time or another)
Naturally, the force of the combined yell was enough to make Bob fall back in his chair. No sooner had he sat himself back in his chair, when Helen came sprinting/ rolling down the stairs at top speed, landing in a tangled mess on the floor next to the breakfast table.
"IT'S THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, AND I OVERSLEPT!" she shouted, untangling herself with some effort. Everyone (including Jack-Jack) had stopped eating and were now staring at Helen, who was running back and forth through the house (at about Dash's speed) spurting out her list as she went.
"We gotta get the kids up (zip) and cook breakfast and change Jack-Jack's diaper and (zip) get Bob up and fix (zip) lunches and clean dishes and brush teeth (zip) and walk the dog and take the suits (zip) to the dry-cleaner's and mow the lawn and fix the fence (zip) and replace (stop, point) that light bulb (zip) and put clothes in the washer (zip) and buy groceries and-"
"Mom, we don't have a dog."
(zi-screech)…
"… Are you sure?"
Dash nodded.
"Huh. Hey wait a second!" Helen did a double take. Bob had already gotten the kids up, made lunches, and fixed breakfast. "How did…?"
"How about I take the kids to school, hon?" Bob suggested. "You sound a little stressed."
"Uh, okay," Helen said, taking a seat at the table. She looked at the others as she took a sip of coffee, and said, "So, kids, looking forward to school?"
"Yeah."
"Groovy."
Bob rolled his eyes behind his morning paper. He looked at his watch. "Ten minutes and we're leaving, guys."
"Yeah, all right," Violet said as she and Dash rose to take care of the last-minute preparations for school.
Helen looked over at Bob, sipping his coffee while he read the paper. "How did you know to get up and take care of all that stuff?"
"Happened last year."
"Last year you slept later than I did."
"Well," Bob put down the paper and looked at his wife, "I guess I felt like being nice."
Helen gave him an odd, almost suspicious look.
Bob sighed. "I didn't get the job."
"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry sweetie. There'll be other jobs out there, don't worry. Just give it some time."
"It's been three months, Helen!"
"The right job'll come! We still have plenty of money from the Syndrome thing. Look, if it's that big of a problem, give Rick Dicker a call, I'm sure he can help!"
"No! I've got to do this myself."
"All right. But you should know…"
"What?"
"Your son just put salt in your milk."
Too late, Bob had already taken a large gulp. And he was feeling that salt.
"DAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
"All right, Vi, this is your stop," Bob said, looking at the high school through the rental-car window. Violet didn't budge.
"Vi?"
"I don't wanna."
"Hey, c'mon! What happened to my confident little girl?"
"She went on vacation," Dash said from the back seat.
"What he said."
"Vi, c'mon. It'll be fine. If you ever get stuck, just smile and nod… Or ask for directions."
"You never take directions."
"That's cause I have your mother," Bob said through an embarrassed smile. Vi had to smile. She got out of the car and waved over her shoulder as she climbed the building's front stairs. "That's my girl."
Dash rolled his eyes.
As Bob pulled out of the high school drive, he sighed. "I remember when I could hold her in the palm of my hand…"
"Dad, the road!"
"Oh, sorry!" Bob said, correcting his edging the car into the left lane. He looked at Dash in the rearview mirror, wondering what he'd be like when he was a freshman in high school…
"The road, Dad!"
"Whoa!" Bob yelled, the car coming dangerously close to running into a very big truck.
"Do you want me to drive!" Dash said, seething.
"No, I'm fine."
"Granny, 12'o clock!"
"AAAA! (screech) Sorry Ma'am!" Bob yelled at the petrified woman as he passed by her.
With Mom's maniac driving and Dad's lack of attention, who knows what Vi's gonna turn out like! Dash thought after redirecting his father's attention again. Finally they reached Dash's school, with only minor injuries.
"All right! First day of school! We're ready to learn to get some knowledge!" Bob said energetically to his son. (A/N couldn't help myself. Little ode to Finding Nemo there)
"Sure, Dad," Dash said, grabbing his backpack and hopping out of the rental car. He was almost to the elementary school's front door when his father called his name. "What is it, Dad?"
"Please don't get in trouble, Dash!"
The boy just laughed. He walked into the building, pulling out his schedule. Room 56, Mrs. Gutchewsky. Easy enough to remember. Now where is good ol' Bernie? Dash thought mischievously. He walked by a group of sixth graders gathered around something (probably some dopey new trading cards) and a few teachers.
"Hey Dash!"
"Hey Todd! What's up?"
"Who's your teacher?"
"Gutchewsky."
"Gutchewsky? Never heard of him."
"Her."
"Must be new. You'll be having fun this year, won't you?"
"You know it. New equals naïve. She is dead."
"I wish I had your class; I could get some great entertainment."
"Who ya got?"
"Peterson."
"That old guy?"
"Hey, boys, what're talking about?"
The boys jumped away from the principal, thoroughly surprised.
"Oh, hey Principal Polt. Where's ol' Berni- I mean, Mr. Binder?"
"He moved to a different district over the summer, Dashiell. See you around, boys."
"Yeah, see ya," Dash said dejectedly, although pleased with the sense he had a part to play with his moving. "Now who'm I gonna torture?" he asked Todd. "What if I like my new teacher?"
"Be brave, man, be brave! You represent troublemakers everywhere, you can't panic now!"
The bell rang.
"I'm panicking."
Helen couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to read the paper. It was a very 'lightening' experience. Or at least the comics were. Then she came across a small series of articles. Three guesses what they were about.
"Super psychology? Young supers put in overly demanding situations? Mrs. Incredible is Elastigirl?" Helen read the last one first. "After analysis of hair samples and old footage of the famed 'Elastigirl,' scientists have determined that Mrs. Incredible is in fact 'Elastigirl,' fifteen years older. The rest of the article was about how scientists came to this deduction.
"Heck, all they had to do was ask me," Helen said, taking a sip of coffee. The first article turned out to just be a promo for some bozo's new book. The second article, however, criticized Bob and herself for taking their kids along on their 'super outings,' as the writer dubbed them. Of course, that was putting it politely. Helen was boiling mad by the time she'd finished the article. She threw the paper away from her, exposing the front page to her. She looked at the headline. 'McCormick makes Congress.'
McCormick. Helen knew about McCormick. He was bad news. She'd met him briefly when she was in college and he was touring with his debate team. No one in the country was more against supers than Jim McCormick. What was worse was that he was an excellent speech-giver. When Helen had attended his debate (mandatory for a class she was taking), she herself had almost joined the 'Young Americans Against Supers' organization. Then she'd heard some cop cars in the distance. The memory sent shivers up her spine.
"Bob's gonna have to see this," she said to herself.
Dun dun dun music! Okay, random. Know what? Star Wars Episode 3 came out. Guess what else. I turned 15. That means driving permit! You'll be looking for my parents in the obituary.
Review…?