Happy Late Birthday, You're Half Demon! || SHORT STORY [ COMPLETE ]

Your Dead Beat Dad's Here!

     "I hate that trope!" Your sister screeched as she shoved down her dinner. "You're telling me that after the kid develops powers you decide to tell them they're the child of some higher being?! How could you think that they may not have something special about them and lie about their real parent?! That's just poor planned parenting-" You tune your sister out as she goes on another rant about some book she was reading earlier that day. Your mother laughs lightly as she drags out her own chair at the table to sit down.

     The irony of your sister's rant was that it was your reality. Well, aside from the fact that the kid had powers. You, much like your sister's stories, had a father of higher origin. Your mom had no intention of hiding that fact, it would be sort of hard to hide when he's her ex-husband. Your sister was born to another man, a good dad and husband who now plays the part your real father couldn't. Not that you're really complaining, you've met your dad before and he's not fit for the parenting role.

     "Chris, don't forget to set out your Sunday suit for tomorrow. I washed it earlier today so it should be clean." Your mom smiled your way, knocking you back into reality. Your food had been scooped off your plate, and seemed to have found its way onto your sisters. You scowl at her, but return your attention to your mother. "Okay, thank you."

     Your few words seem to please your mother as she smiles at you before she collects the empty dishes off the table to wash. As you stand to help her, she continues talking. "Oh, and your father is coming by soon to drop off your late birthday gift." Her voice hardens when she mentions the late gift, almost disappointed, more annoyed. You can hear your sister groan from her spot at the table "He always forgets my birthday, it's not that big of a deal. It doesn't bother me."

     But really, it did bother you. Only ever so often do you think about how it would be if your dad was actually a doting, dutiful father. But then you remember, your rotten little sister, who's name is Lauren, wouldn't exist. And you love that little stinker, no matter how much she steals your food and leaves your bedroom door open.

     The room fills with a comfortable silence as you and your mom wash the dishes, and your sister helps herself to the rest of the food.

     Back in your room, you throw your Sunday suit on the recently cleaned desk. The suit was cream white and free of wrinkles. Your mom must have ironed it for you. On Sunday you go to church, at first with your mom and then sometime down the road, on your own. The reason is simple, your father. He wasn't a holy being really, in fact he was the opposite. His home is lying down below. When he's on Earth he makes no effort to hide his obvious horns and annoying tail.

     Your mom never talked about how they met, and frankly, you're not that curious. For your dad to be a demon, and your mom's ex-husband, there had to be a weird story behind it all. You were not going to risk ruining your image of your mom for some origin story.

     To spite your father, your mom had started going to church, and when you were old enough, she took you along as well. After some time though, she quit going to take care of the house. That left you alone. Not that you mind, you actually liked church. You sometimes thought of how funny the people's reaction would be to learning what your father was.

     You could hear the front door of the house open from your room. Then, a loud, obnoxious laugh. Your father was here. And from the sounds of it, he brought jokes with him. Without much warning, besides from the heavy footsteps coming down the hallway swiftly, your dad bursts through the door. "Happy Birthday, Kiddo!" He nervously beamed. "Close your eyes, I want my present to be a surprise!"

     He was a big man, the typical dad bod you would expect from a deadbeat dad. His face was scruffy with a full beard. Looking at him you would never expect him to be anything but human, but the two large, red horns on his head and the swaying black tail behind him said otherwise.

     "It's already a surprise." You deadpanned back, but obliged to his request anyway. He tells you to hold out your arms, and you do. When he hands over the gift, you feel soft, cold fabric on your arms. Opening your eyes you realize what he gave you wasn't any normal cloth.

     "Is this... a robe?" The robe was long and black, and glittered with gold intricacies. The robe also sported a hood and silver buttons that hid well into the fabric so as to not be noticed when worn. You were confused, but your father kept on smiling. "So?"

     "What is it?" You watched as his smile faltered. He bounced back quickly. "It's your robe! You're turning 16 now, right?" He seemed to pause and think. You wondered how he even managed to remember that. "When I was 16, I was given my own robe as well. Granted that was a very long time ago. But! You should be getting your training horns anytime now!"

     You recoiled. "Excuse me? I should be getting what?"

     "Your training horns!" He said it so casually, you almost wanted to slap him for it. "You're part demon, you expected to not have anything from my side?" He laughs at that, like what he said was the funniest thing ever. You didn't think it was funny in the slightest. "Isn't this amazing?" He beamed again.

     Your horror turned into frustration, and your frustration turned into anger. "Why did you only decide to tell me now? Couldn't you have prepared me earlier in life than at the last minute?" You didn't want to fight your father, physically or verbally in fear of harming his ego. He was a sensitive man after all. As if proving your point he flinched at the harsh words.

     "C'mon champ, you should be excited! You get to look awesome, like your old man!" You're grip on the robe tightened, the urge to slap him coming back up like vomit. In a flash, the robe caught fire. And as fast as it caught fire, it crumbled to the ground in a pile of dust. There was a moment of silence between you. "WHAT?!"

     "You just burned the robe!"

     "That's not important, I just had FIRE in my PALM!"

     "But you didn't get burned!"

     "I didn't get burned!"

     Your dad's excitement outshined your horror and confusion. "Don't worry," Your dad pulls out a similar looking robe to the one from before, this time white. "I anticipated this so I brought a second robe. Fire proof this time!" He lit his own hand ablaze to prove himself. "And the best part about this? We get father-son-time! After All, who better to train you than your own father?"

     You start zoning out, still in disbelief of the prior events. Father-son-time? You are aggressively brought back out of your zone by a big, clammy hand ruffling your hair. "And would you look at that! You already have an inkling of horns showing!"

     "WHAT?!"