Silly Things

Imagine

Chapter 4

Mike slumped over the opaque glass table. "Daaad?" he whined plaintively. "Do I have to do this? Really?"

His father, Robert, was a quiet vulpine, but his tall, muscular body was testament to the fact that he was once as athletic as his son, if not even more so. Though he was now in his mid-thirties, the handsome fox had once been an avid soccer fan; in recent years, his athletic drives had merely been redirected towards the local football variant.

However, he now sported two thin box framed glasses on the bridge of his muzzle and wore a simple corduroy jacket and pant set as he sat back down in front of his large book.

"Yeah, sorry Mike," Robert replied, adjusting his frames and squinting at the voluminous text before him. "Bloody government morons apparently don't trust a university English professor to give his son an elementary level education."

"But this is stupid!" Mike groaned in dismay and dropped his pencil. "Look at this one! 'Who is the current president of America?' Are they kidding?"

"It's because they think I'm keeping you locked in the basement during the day and using you for satanic rituals at night." Robert chuckled and shook his head. "Not really. They just want home-schooling to become so impractical that everyone just defers to the system for their kids' education. That way, it's easier to turn them into mindless television junkies."

Mike grinned irreverently. "I'll take your word for it... until I can prove you right or wrong."

The older fur laughed and ruffled his son's head-fur. "Good boy."

The kit sighed. "Well... who was that on the phone?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, nobody. We'll be having a guest tonight, that's all."

"Who?"

His father grinned. "You'll see."

They went back to their respective tasks for another half-hour before Robert sighed and leaned back.

"All this reading can't be good for the eyes..." he said. "I already wear glasses."

"Can you still throw a ball, or are you too old and frail now?" challenged his son, looking up hopefully from his 'homework'.

"Depends. Want me to change your diaper first?"

Before their playful verbal jousting could go any further, someone knocked on the door.

Standing, Robert walked to the door, avoiding his son's soccer ball in the hall, and opened it.

Mike couldn't see very much, since his father was blocking the view, but as he curiously sat up, he caught sight of a pointed, blue cap. Then another.

"Cops?" he mumbled to himself.

Mike didn't really like cops.

He briefly considered getting up and going to the door to see what was happening, but he knew if it was anything important his dad would pass it on. He always did. The kit shrugged and returned to his pointless, intrusive busywork.

"Um, th-thank you..." a familiar voice stammered softly, the speaker obscured by the adults crowding the doorway.

"Tai?!" Mike stood up abruptly, almost knocking his wooden chair over with the backs of his knees in the process, and jogged to the door.