Chapter 25 I Love My Papa

Junior lowered himself onto the ground, crossing his legs once he was in position. The orange bean bag chair made a whooshing noise, much to the Koopa Prince's delight. That noise was the main reason he had wanted the chair in his room.

"Okay," he exhaled. He looked down at his notebook. "I think I'll write about…." He pressed his pen down on the paper. Obviously, he was going to give himself two stories. That was the amount that everyone else got (well, with the exception of Roy, of course). He allowed the tip to rest on the page. He pressed so hard that ink flowed into a little black and blue puddle.

"Huh." He lifted the pen. "I can't think of anything."

He thought and thought. Just to make sure that he could get the ideas flowing, he got up and started pacing. When that didn't work, he rolled around on his bed. When that didn't work, he chewed on his nails until they were tiny nubs. Nothing would come.

"Man, this is harder than it looks." It was no wonder why Roy had trouble coming up with a second story to tell. "Seriously, how the others managed to get two stories each is impressive as heck."

…

Junior sighed. The sun was already setting outside. He watched the sky turn orange with his head in his palm. He still hadn't thought of anything. He still hadn't managed to get an experience down.

He turned back to his notebook, still resting open on the chair. "What can I write?" He murmured. He went back over and sat back down. This time gripping the pen lightly, he popped his lips while staring at the Blank page. "Maybe...maybe looking at the others stories will help?"

So, he did. He looked at Wendy's, Morton's, and Larry's stories. He noticed a running theme with all of them, how they were experiences that were important to them. When he got up and looked in the notebook that contained Iggy, Roy, Lemmy, and Ludwig, and Bowser's stories, he noticed the same theme. So, obviously, he needed something that shaped who he was. Something that meant a lot to him. Possibly some time where he had an "ah ha" moment.

Junior flipped back to Ludwig's first story, of the one where he was yelling at Kamek to get him some Baked Alaska. He couldn't help but giggle at that the tiniest bit. His oldest brother really had been a spoiled brat. He was the kind of child that one would describe as a "terror," the kind of child that no one wanted to be responsible for babysittting.

But then again...Junior was one to talk. He had been exactly the same way when he was younger.

Junior sniffed. While that might have been true in the past, he was actively making an effort to not be that way now. He was trying his darndest to improve, and he did seem to be succeeding.

Wait a second. Why doesn't he write about that experience? The experience that led him from being spoiled to….unspoiled?

Junior beamed. "Yes! Yes, that's perfect!" He flopped down on the bean bag chair and started to write.

…

This happened when I was seven and a half.

It was after I had run away from home. That was a stupid thing to do; everyone who I talk to nowadays agrees. I almost nearly got severely hurt. I almost got myself killed.

But even after that, and receiving a punishment where I had to eat a pint of rum raisin ice cream in one sitting (that stuff makes me barf like a dog), I was still the spoiled brat that I always was. It was always about me, me, me….ALL the time! I was the center of attention, the center of the universe...heck, I was God himself! At least, that was how it was in my eyes.

Until that one fateful day when Dad got fed up.

It all started simple enough. I went up to Dad and asked him "Dad, can I get a Galaxy all to myself?"

Dad, who had been eating food at the time, spit out the crumbs and stared at me with wide eyes. "WHAT?" he barked.

"I want a galaxy. You got a Galaxy. Why can't I get one?"

Dad scrunched up his brow. "Are you being serious?"

"Yep."

Dad sighed and pinched his brow. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to enslave an entire Galaxy, just so you can rule it?"

"Yes. Preferably this one."

Dad shook his head. "The answer is no."

I gawked. I stared at Dad, frothing at the mouth and clenching my fists as I did so. "No?"

"No. It was way too much trouble to get the first Galaxy. I don't want to do it again."

I squinted my beady little eyes at my father. "You dare say no to the heir of the throne?"

With that, I let out a shriek. I got down on the floor and started crying, kicking, and screaming. This method had worked wonders in the past; had pretty much guaranteed that I get everything that I want.

However, it didn't work this time. Because, right as I was in the middle of my tantrum, Bowser picked me up, bent me over his knee…

And spanked me. Hard.

That shut me up. "Dad, why…"

"I…" spank… "am.." spank…. "tired…of your YELLING!"

Spank spank SPANK! My bottom stung like a third degree sunburn. I started to cry, but this time, it was due to pain rather than anger.

"Da...daddy!"

"NO! I HAVE DEALT WITH SO MUCH BULL CRAP OVER THE YEARS! I'VE PUT UP WITH YOU FOR A LONG TIME JUNIOR, BUT NOW, I'M SICK OF IT!" He set me down on the ground. "YOU ARE NOT GETTING A GALAXY! YOU ARE NOT GETTING ANYTHING BUT ANOTHER SPANKING IF YOU DON'T STOP YELLING!"

With that, the yelling stopped. I stared at my father, completely and utterly dumbfounded. He breathed in and out, inhale, exhale. He out his hand to his hand and groaned.

"I need to get out of here."

With that, he left. I stood up too, rubbing my aching backside and trying to swallow my tears. I was a Prince. I didn't cry from the pain. I was supposed to suck it up.

Not knowing what else to do, I went up to my room.

…

Dad wasn't at the dining room the next day. And, to be completely honest, I was okay with that. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to talk to him. I was fine just keeping to myself.

It wasn't until he didn't show up for a week that I became concerned. I didn't go that long without seeing my Papa. I didn't go that long without him tucking me in at night, nor did I go that long without him saying that he loved me.

Where was he? I remembered checking the room, but he wasn't there. I checked all over the hallways, but he wasn't there.

No. He wasn't anywhere. I cried all over again.

"Dad? Dad, where are you?"

That was when I heard moaning coming from behind me. I looked behind and gasped. There was Dad, and he was holding one hand to his head. The other, he was clutching his chest with.

"Dad!" I ran up to him. "Dad, what's…"

Before I knew it, he fainted. I let out a gasp, just barely avoiding him falling on top of me. Since I was so little at the time, I had no idea what was going on. Was he dead? Was Papa dead?

"Papa!" I shook him. "Papa, wake up!"

Papa didn't wake up. Tears stung my eyes. What was going on? Was Papa….I needed to get help.

"Kamek!"

…

Turns out, Papa had collapsed due to stress. He ended up being taken to a hospital, where he stayed for a good four days as he tried to gather his bearings.

I was...afraid. The nights where Dad wasn't at the castle, where no one came to visit me in my room, were the worst days of my life up until that point. I cried myself to sleep, my worry encasing me like tree sap. What would happen to Papa? Would he be okay?

What if this was my fault?

I shook my head. No. It couldn't be my fault. Dad was just exhausted.

But what if I was a cause for the exhaustion?

Even though I told myself that wasn't the case, I still curled up under the covers extra tight. I didn't want to lose my Dad.

….

I remember sitting by Papa's bed the next day. He was awake, but he couldn't get up. He couldn't leave the hospital. I cried and cried and cried, more than I was willing to admit to anyone.

"Papa! I'm so sorry!"

Papa let out a breath. "It's not your fault, Junior. Daddy just overworked himself. He's getting treatment from the nice nurses."

I dried my nose. "Why...why were you stressed?"

Dad paused before sighing. "Running a kingdom… it's hard work son."

That was all he said, but it was all that needed to be said. In that instant, I realized that my Papa had a lot on his plate. He had been trying to be a good King and a good father. Not just to me, but my seven older siblings. I lowered my head.

"It's no wonder you spanked me. You were probably really stressed out."

Dad shook his head. "I shouldn't have spanked you like that. You shouldn't strike your child in anger."

"No."

Dad blinked in surprise. "No?"

"Dad...it's okay. I deserved it." I sniffled. "I was the one who caused you more stress than you could handle."

Dad looked at me with a furrowed brow. "Junior…."

Before he could say anymore, I held up my hand. "Dad, I want to keep you around. I want you to be there when I become king, and I don't want you to get angry and give yourself a heart attack. So…." I took in a breath. "From this day onward, no more tantrums."

Dad blinked before snorting. "Okay…"

"It's true! Dad, you are everything to me! If it means helping you be the best King for the longest time, I will do my best to be a better koopa!" I smiled. "So, no more tantrums."

Dad paused before smiling a little. "You're willing to do that for me?" When I nodded, he held out his arms. "Come here."

We embraced each other then. Despite how difficult I knew it would be, I wanted to live up to that promise. If there was one thing I loved more than getting what I wanted...it was my Dad.