Dad's The Man Ch. 01byAmeaner©
I turned eighteen today. Daddy got me this computer for my birthday, gift, hoping it would somehow help with my schoolwork. To explain, my grades have been steadily slipping. It started last year, before the Christmas exams, this growing inability to understand some of the more advanced concepts in Math, Science and Biology. After bringing my report card home for Christmas, I had to listen to some stern words from Daddy about buckling down. During the second term, my marks in the rest of my subjects started to follow the same downward trend, save for English and Home Ec..
By this time, it was pretty clear that I wouldn't be graduating and, worst of all, the kids started making fun of me. Even Janice, my one time best friend, (my only real friend) now calls me 'airhead' like the rest of them. I suppose it wouldn't be very cool for her to be seen treating me nice, even though I never did anything to her to deserve this. I thought I was a good friend.
But, I don't think it's just my grades. I look younger than I am, I'm kind of short (five-two) and I have this stupid voice that really makes me sound younger, but I can't help those things. I sound stupid when I try to talk older and they made fun of me for that, too.
This, my second senior year, isn't proving to be much better, even though I've been dropped down to level three in all my trouble subjects. This year's Christmas report card was about the same as last year and, when I showed Daddy, that's when he really flipped out. He started yelling and stuff, telling me how I had to have an education in order to get by in life and that he couldn't take care of me forever and all that, but he doesn't know how hard school's gotten for me.
Well, I totally broke down, crying and everything. I told him how hard I'm working, how all the kids now make fun of me, (not about my new nickname) and what a nightmare school has become for me. In fact, I kind of threw a little tantrum and he had to calm me down, saying that it was alright and that the other kids are just assholes and all that.
And I honestly don't know what's wrong. I just can't seem to understand what the teachers show us anymore. I sit there with no idea of what they're talking about and fight back tears when I'm given a test and I don't know any of the answers. I try so hard. Sometimes, I think I'm just distracted by my constant horny, but I masturbate all the time and I still can't concentrate, or understand, so that can't be it. And why am I still doing okay in level one English, but so stupid in the rest of my classes? I just don't get it.
At least he's not mad anymore, not even when I told him that they were putting me in level four (also known as 'the crayon crew') for the rest of the year, so that I might actually have a chance to graduate this time around. I'm sure that will really help my popularity. How humiliating!
So, now I have this computer to help in some way I'm not aware of. I decided to start this Diary, just to get some use out of it.
My name is Kathleen Hale (Daddy calls me 'kitten') and my father and I live alone because my mother ran out on us as soon as I was born. My birthday is January eighteenth, I have long, mousy brown hair, blue eyes and an average body, meaning I'm not exactly on the cheerleader squad.
I don't know what else to say.
I have two kitties, Ms. Lulu and Mr. Toodles. Lulu is spayed, so she can never be Mrs. Toodles.
I'm not starting this with 'Dear Diary' anymore.
WOW!! You'll never guess what happened today! Daddy picked me up after I got home from school, taking me out to get groceries with him and to ride along on our usual Friday errands, but we had to go back to the cement pipe plant where he works, telling me the pay stubs were late from management, grumbling about the 'chicken shit union' constantly putting up with that kind of thing.
Daddy's forty-two, but like I already wrote, he's one of those ageless looking men. He kind of makes me think of Clint Eastwood in those old western movies, except he's taller and a little broader, his attitude more like Eastwood's character in Unforgiven. Sort of one of those 'take no shit' older guys that look like they've been everywhere and done everything, so you better not mess with them, but he does have a soft side that comes out a lot when we're at home.
Anyway, I'm sitting in his truck in the dirt parking lot, waiting for him while he's in there. I had the window down because it was hot and I'd taken my jacket off, leaving me in my light T-shirt, and suddenly I notice these three guys coming out of the plant. They were about my father's age and one of them was pretty big. They noticed me, one of the smaller ones subtly gesturing with his hand.
Next thing I know, they're standing at the window talking to me! They seemed pretty friendly, especially the big guy, telling me he was a friend of Daddy's and asking my name. I told him, a little overwhelmed by their attention. Next, he asked me if I was still in school and how old I was, actually looking at my chest! I flushed and stammered my age and where I went to school, but then I saw Daddy coming.
I have to admit, I was pretty excited. I mean, they came right over to talk to me! ME!! But the expression I saw on Daddy's face as he walked through the gate must have had some effect on mine because the three men turned around, saw Daddy coming and then said hastily polite goodbyes before walking away, each man to his own car.
Daddy walked right up to the window, dusty, dirty and pretty intense. His big hand resting on the side mirror, he asked me what was going on and I quickly told him because, as I've also said about him, he's pretty strict when it comes to respect and me obeying him. He immediately strode off after the three men, his work boots stirring dust with each confident step.
He chose the big guy, following him right to the other side of his blue sedan where, after seeing that Daddy was approaching, he waited. Daddy walked right up to him and a few words which I couldn't hear were exchanged before he punched the big guy right in the face! Yes! Not only that, he kept punching and punching while this big guy seemed to be in a daze, slowly going to his knees, then disappearing below the windows of his car, presumably to the dirt while Daddy's right fist repeatedly helped him there. I can still see his elbow jutting up in the air, his arm with that big, rough hand at the end driving downward over and over.
So, he finishes with him and turns around, walks to the front of the guy's car and stares at the other two. I mean, it was this cold stare that would have even made the devil back down, I swear! The other guys get in their cars and take off, he comes back to the truck and I'm thinking I'm in BIG trouble.
But am I? No. Instead, he hops in, takes the old, blackened rag that he uses to check the truck's oil with from under the seat and, without a word, wraps it around his gouged knuckles. Once he's done with that, he start's the truck and we're moving out of the lot.
He looks at me with that little grin he uses when he doesn't want me to be upset and says, "Any man that tells you he's a friend of mine is a liar."
Like I said, WOW!! I mean, first of all, those guys were actually flirting with me, even though I was too nervous to get that at the time until just before they left. But, even more interesting, is Daddy's comment. He never brought any friends home, never went out, but I naturally expected him to have friends at work.
Sorry I missed you last night, I was staying at Aunt Peggy's house. Daddy was out of town on a sewer pipe laying job.
Aunt Peggy is great. She still loves to play board games and stuff, like she always did, and I had a great time, like I always do. And I had to wonder about her again, like always. I know I've mentioned this before, but it's so odd how she, like Daddy, has that ageless quality to her, not at all looking her forty-four years, yet she's so different from him. Where Daddy is often like an old grouch with the vitality of a young man, she's a lot more laid back in some ways, yet with the vitality of an old woman.
She presented herself like she usually does, in that ratty old, blue housecoat with her long, oily hair hanging down her back and front as we sat in her gloomy living room, the drapes pulled closed like most of the other rooms in the house, even though it was daylight outside. She's actually put on some weight in the last few years, the signs of this in her face as well as her hips. Her green, tired looking eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot as usual, but warm and playful as her full lips parted to smile, promising my destruction on the black and red battlefield between our well arrayed army of checkers.
Sometimes it's hard to imagine she's his sister. It's not just her apparent lifestyle, but her forward and likeable way and I wish I could hang out with her a lot more, but Daddy says she likes her space.
But, tonight was a bit different. We got talking about things, namely boys and stuff, she making sure my 'birds-and-the-bees' knowledge was sufficient, when I asked her about my mother.
Peggy and I have spoken about her a few times before, what amounted to one word answers to my questions, but not for a while and not since before her initial 'birds-and--the-bees' talk.
Well, using the most polite terms possible, she hesitatingly told me, in so many words, that my mother was a slut. According to Peggy, my father met up with her when he was twenty-one and, after a relatively short, fast living, hard dying relationship, the inevitable breakup was postponed by me.
"Her name was Sheila Burchell and I saw what she was right away," Peggy confided, looking at the board as she spoke. "As soon as I met her, I knew what she was, but John was a little quiet, like you, and I thought,... it wouldn't hurt him to get out there and get his feet wet. (ahem) Well, once she found out she was pregnant, she meant to use your father for as long as she had to until she could deliver you, and she was pretty convincing, too. Of course, your father,... Well, I wasn't surprised when he called me and said she'd cleaned him out and left you two. He was pretty crushed and I tried to explain to him about,... things. I tried to explain, but you know how he is. Well, that's actually why he is."
"Did she cheat on him?" I asked.
" ... He suspected she was just before she got pregnant. She was one to flirt around the bar and he'd caught her acting in ways that,... well, when a woman is with someone, she shouldn't act that way with other men. He started to see in the end that he was only along for her little ride, paying her way, buying her drinks and expensive little gifts with his hard earned money to make her happy, believing that would change her."
"Daddy went to bars?"
"Things were different then. I think your father saw what she was all about at some point, he just couldn't get over his infatuation with her. She was very attractive. I imagine, being the way he was at the time, he felt lucky to have her. He even told me that she was his 'physical ideal'. ... Hm. The only good she ever accomplished was to help give us you."
"Do I look like her?"
" ... She was blonde."
She changed the subject after that and, before long, I found myself being systematically destroyed as she'd promised.
I asked Daddy about my mother tonight. He had a couple beer and seemed to be in the right mood, so I just went for it. He only looked at me at first, probably thinking it was only a matter of time before I brought it up, but wondering what would make me bring it up now.
"What do you want to know, kitten?" he asked in that quiet way of his.
He was sitting at the end of the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, alternately reading the newspaper and watching Mayday. Now his paper was in his lap, the televised revelation that the pins holding the 747's engines on its wings were of the wrong type, completely ignored.
"Well,... what was she like?"
He sighed, but answered, "She was,... fun loving. Fun to be around. Always wanted to be on the move,... Hm."
"What did you two talk about?" I asked before he could fall too deeply into his unintentional double meaning. "I mean, when you talked."
He paused here, his eyes on me, but thinking back, finally answering, "Nothing. Just,... nothing. She really wasn't much of a conversationalist when it got down to it."
"Did she read, like us?"
"No. Well, she read Cosmopolitan and all that shit."
"Was she smart?"
"Yeah, in her own way, she sure was. Very intuitive, you know? She could walk into any place and see who was who, what was what and where she could fit in. A professional socialite, I guess you could say."
"How old was she? Your age?"
"No, she was older, twenty-four."
"Did you get along well before she left?"
"Not really. At first we did, but we weren't very well matched."
"Was she pretty?"
"Yeah, very pretty. A lot of guys thought so."
"Daddy,... Why did she leave?"
" ... 'Cause no one man would ever satisfy her."
"She,... cheated? On you?"
"Like I said, she was always on the move. I don't think about it anymore."
"Sooo,... my mother was a loose woman?"
" ... You know your aunt Peg used to be married, eh?"
"Yes. A long time ago, before I was born."
"That's right. And you'll notice she never brings it up with you, does she?"
I didn't know what to say to that, what he was even implying as he regarded me frankly for a moment before picking up his newspaper to begin reading again.
And that was the end of that conversation. But still, he stayed in a good mood and I even managed to get him into helping out with my latest mystery game on the laptop. I still haven't told him about the wireless internet thingy I've discovered it's equipped with.
I had sex with Tony Erikson. He's my age, eighteen, and works at the Library. It just happened. My horny was back again and he just somehow ended up screwing me in the back area.
It was awful, not at all like I'd imagined it. He seemed so nice, but turned out to be this grubby little goof that just stole my virginity and pulled his pants up after, asking me if I was 'good to go' before walking out.
It hurt so much. I hate him, I hate myself and now I can never go back there! Why am I so stupid? What would Daddy say? Thank god Peggy got me on the pill. He was such a goof, I hate him, I hate his fucking guts! He was just a little perv-boy that used me! I'm never, ever, ever having sex again!
I still can't find a job and now I'm wondering why I bothered to work so hard to barely graduate. Don't get me wrong, I now know what my father meant when he harped on and on about how important my grades were and how I should be thinking about my future. If my grades were better, at least I could get into community college and take some kind of course.
Daddy's been really good about it, though, letting me use the truck whenever I need it and everything. I wonder if I should leave a button or two of my blouse undone at my next interview? My boobies are large Cs and they have been known to attract attention, especially when I want them to for a little forbidden thrill.
Speaking of employment, if I had some money, I could buy myself some nice clothes, so I wouldn't have to wear all this old school stuff. How am I supposed to attract a decent boyfriend like this? Maybe I should shorten some of my older, longer skirts somehow. Maybe Aunt Peggy will help me. God, I'm sooo horny! I could almost sell myself for money!
Another day, another failed interview. This is getting pretty depressing. I can't even get a job at Tim Horton's and I'm actually prepared to shovel people's driveways as soon as the snow flies. Maybe I could get on with one of those snow removal outfits. I could do walkways and, since I have my driver's license, they might even let me run a plow truck, in time. I might even meet a boyfriend there.
Speaking of, I've finally made the decision. I'm going to use the small amount of allowance money I've saved to buy myself a dildo, if I have enough. How I'm going to walk into that little shop uptown is something I haven't worked out yet, but I have to have something. It's not as if it would look any better if I went and bought a Zucchini at the supermarket and there's no way I'm doing that! I think I want something ribbed because women seem to make a big deal about that. But, how do I do the purchase?
Daddy took notice of the clothes Peggy helped me alter, but he didn't say anything. It's weird how he's so strict with some things, yet not with others. That laptop must have cost him a lot, but he got it. He dresses in work clothes all the time and only ever buys me clothes when I outgrow or wear out all my old stuff, except for the nice jackets and stuff he's gotten me on special occasions, and then he goes all out.
But, he's funny like that. He drives that old Chevy three quarter ton, four wheel drive that he's had for years and years and says it's like new, then rips a perfectly good wall in the house down because he says it's time for something different.
I wonder if Peggy would get a dildo for me?
I got a dildo! I didn't get Peggy to buy it for me, but here's what happened:
I drove to the shop and parked a little ways down the street. After paying the meter, I hopped back in the truck, watching the foot traffic up and down the sidewalk. My plan was to wait until there was nobody on the block, it being two thirty PM, and quickly scoot inside. Of course, I was in full disguise, wearing Daddy's dirty old, black and orange 'CAT Diesel Power' cap, my sunglasses, long hair in a ponytail and with my dirty work jeans and sheepskin lined, denim work jacket on.
After about ten minutes, the way was clear and I hopped out of the truck, striding nervously across the street, my hands in the pockets of my jacket. I was so worried about someone seeing me go in that I even forgot to think about how I would go about shopping for a dildo once I was there and how I'd get back to the truck without being seen after.
About five paces from the door, trying to imagine myself politely asking to purchase a dildo, I came to an abrupt halt, my face threatening to flush as I only then began to wonder what I'd do if there was a man working there. I just assumed it would be a woman, for whatever reason, but that didn't have to be the case. Would I have to ask him to see his array of dildos? Would they be in a glass case right under the cash register?
I realized I was standing in front of the sex shop, staring at it and made a panicked decision to abort my little mission then and there before someone I knew was able to spot and recognize me, the airhead who is also a kinky little slut. Turning, I almost walked right into someone and, in my frightened surprise, I let out a short, panicked yelp.
"Whoa, you okay, kid?"
It was a female voice and I looked up out of pure instinct to mutter my apologies, seeing a very attractive young woman in her mid to late twenties. She was taller than me, (I'd guess about five-five without the heels) with green eyes and long black hair, looking curiously like Aunt Peggy might have looked when she was younger, save for this woman's trim figure and light Asian features. She seemed confident in her provocative, yet decent, gray Autumn skirt with the wide black belt, the hem almost reaching her knees beneath what looked like a tailored, long maroon coat. Her expression changed to one of surprise and curiosity when I looked at her.
"Oh! You're a girl! Sorry, I don't mean that the way it sounds."