Pitiful I Know

Chapter 13

I looked at me dad, ready to make some sarcastic comment like, "Oh no, he can't, he's a vampire and he doesn't eat food, but he was planning on sucking me dry so we should just burn him to ashes and then we can enjoy our little family meal."

But instead, I found myself squealing in surprise as my ass landed on the floor in a big THUMP.

What the hell?

I looked up to see Blake's face going all guilty and awkward.

And then I started to laugh, even though my ass hurt like crazy and stupid jerk had dropped me on the floor.

"What the hell? Why'd you drop me?" I asked him.

Blake looked at me and then at my father like a kid caught stealing a cookie.

"Where did you find this one, kid?" my father said, a grin plastered on his face.

"Cheap deal on Craig's List," I answered still laughing and got back on my feet without any help from Mister I-Have-No-Coordination-And-I-Drop-People, rubbing my hurt butt.

"Well, however you paid you got robbed kid," my father answered laughing, but then he glared at Blake. "Son, I'm going to tell you this just once. I worked for a butcher in my early years and I ain't afraid of using these skills on some hormonal teenager," he informed him in a strict almost scary voice.

I had a hard time not bursting into laughter.

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir. I'll leave now," Blake said in a rush and he seriously looked freaked out.

But by then my father couldn't keep up the pretence and pretty much laughed in his face.

"Seriously kid, where did you get this one?" Dad asked me, taking a breath to calm himself, leaning on my door frame.

"The real question is how do I get rid of him," I answered and walked towards my father, looking back at Blake who had a dumbstruck expression on his face.

Ha. Ha. HA!

"Easy. You sleep with him. When they get what they want they don't come bothering you anymore," my father replied and laughed even more.

I heard Blake gasp.

I knew what Blake must have been thinking. In the name of all that is holy, what kind of father is that? Well, that was my dad. My dad who knew me. He might not have known everyone I hung out with, or every detail about my life, but he knew me, the real buried-deep-inside-my-guts me. And he knew he didn't need to worry.

Blake, on the other hand, seriously looked like a trucker at a Tupperware party—completely confused.

"Stop making that face, son. You'll get grey hair prematurely. Don't worry, I didn't work with a butcher. But I worked in a coffee shop and I can grind your nuts," my father informed him and laughed even harder, but I just stared at him this time.

"Dad. No. That one wasn't funny," I told him dryly.

"You're losing your sense of humor kid," he said and then he looked around him. "Where's your brother?"

I shrugged. "Out wasting some poor girl's time."

"Busy kid! Well, that means more fish for us. So, are you staying son?" my father asked, looking at Blake.

Seriously, I was really sad that I didn't have a camera close by because the face Blake was making was simply priceless.

"Is he dumb?" my father asked me since Blake still wasn't answering.