Making Fantasia (KF Prequel): The Nightmare After Christmas

Chapter 7: Jolly Old St. Bitcholas

Chapter 7: Jolly Old St. Bitcholas

Breakfast with Admiral Triton was typically by special request only.

However, since completing boot camp, Jon had earned the privilege to dine with him every morning. 

Melody had not. 

Now, Jon admired his grandfather and therefore valued his invitation, but not at Melody's expense.  If he wasn't at the breakfast table to remind her, Melody would probably forget she was hungry. 

So, Jon had thanked his grandfather very much, but refused to eat without his sister. 

After a discussion, Admiral Triton allowed Jon a plus 1.

Breakfast was served in Admiral Triton's private kitchenette. It was tidy, nautical themed, and smelled like coffee. The hardest part for Jon was avoiding pictures of his mother, which were dispersed amongst other members of the Triton family. 

Otherwise, their breakfasts passed pleasantly.

"Good morning, private." Petty Officer Sebastian saluted as Jon approached. "Remember, shoes off!"

Jon nodded. He'd just finished a run along the beach.

"The Admiral is seated?"

Sebastian nodded. "With guests, as well."

Jon shook sand and snow from his sneakers. "Guests?"

"Yes." Sebastian pouted. "Your Auntie Arista and her husband, Captain Eric."

Jon picked sand from his treads. Auntie Arista and Captain Eric. Not his favorites. He could almost hear his father saying "Yeah no - Arista and Eric can eat a bag of dicks for breakfast. I'm going to Denny's."

Jon exhaled. No. He wasn't going to make a spectacle of himself. He was a marine. He was disciplined. He kept promises. His father didn't have discipline. His father didn't keep promises. Jon was better than that. However unpleasant, he could tolerate breakfast with his aunt and uncle.

"I won't keep them waiting." Placing his shoes together, Jon padded for the kitchenette. "Please tell Melody I'm here when she awakes."

Aside from Arista and Eric, the breakfast landscape was unchanged: ZNN News was on the television. Admiral Triton's police report was half read. A dark roast was on the French press. Steel cut oats and hot water were on the counter. Blue berries glistened in a glass bowl. Smoked salmon sat alongside bagels on the cutting board.

Jon cleared his throat. "Good morning."

Admiral Triton actually smiled. "Ah! There he is." 

Proudly, he saluted. "Private." 

Jon returned the greeting. "Admiral."

Eric coughed. "There's one more senior service member present."

Jon glanced. It took him a moment to silence Jim's voice in his head (once again revisiting the bag of dicks comment).

"Good morning, Captain." he replied.

"Ah yes, we heard you completed boot camp. Marines, hm?" Eric shaved butter with his spoon. "Not much for academics then, were we?"

Marines had a  formidable reputation: they were tough. Other services (like the Navy) redefined that as being stupid.