Ford *One-Shots*

It Was Cuter When You Were Younger

"Yeah. Let's go eat," said Jake, laughing. "Maybe if you're lucky, you'll get to hear the story of how I got the sexy scar on my top lip. There's a knife involved."

"Oh, your mom told me the real story," Maya told him, allowing him to throw his arm over her shoulder. "Didn't the diamond on her wedding ring catch it when she slapped you that one time?"

∞

@Dragonfire8893 asked about this particular scene a while ago, so this one is dedicated to you <3

It Was Cuter When You Were Younger

Fetus Jake: Aged 17

Principal Gardner and I had a system.

He'd call me into his office, yell at me a little – maybe add a little razzle-dazzle and get Old Bitchy Mrs. Norman in, too – then unhappily call Ma.

He'd learned long ago not to call her on a Wednesday. Hair appointments were sacred to my mother. Gardner had wised up to that fact.

"This time," Gardner said in what he probably thought was an intimidating tone, "you've gone too far, Ford."

Gardner just had to know that he was as intimidating as a chipmunk and had the voice to match.

"I did nothing wrong. Asshole," I added under my breath.

The door was wrenched open behind me, and I automatically sat up straight, waiting for Ma to begrudgingly take her seat beside me.

But it wasn't the scent of her familiar floral scent that hit me. Nope. It was fucking eau de whiskey. And motor oil.

Reaper made the chair look comically tiny. He made the entire office look tiny, and it wasn't because he was some hulking giant. He just had that kind of fucking presence. Like he was the Grim Reaper and we were being forced to act like he was a regular old Joe.

What the fuck, Ma?

Had she sent him? Or did he just decide to be a parent on the one day I'd prefer he didn't?

Gardner looked just as stumped. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

"You a goldfish?" Reaper wanted to know.

I bit my lower lip hard to stop the chuckle that threatened to escape.

Gardner cleared his throat loudly. "Y-your s-son –"

"Hurry it up, Forrest Gump. What'd my son do?"

And Gardner proceeded to read out loud to my old man:

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I want to eat you for dinner

Lunch and breakfast, too

"This was written to a teacher's assistant. A much older teacher's assistant, mind you."

Much older? Paula was in her twenties. I'd seen her ID. Gardner was making it seem like I'd been chasing Norman's powdery geriatric ass.

"That's not my handwriting," I muttered, folding my arms across my chest.

"I'm well aware that you paid Sam Bailey to write this...this filth," Gardner sputtered. "It was found on her desk."

So much for that damn Secret Valentine service, I thought to myself. Fucking snitch.