u/theweekdayonehundred

The first one home, or so he thought.

As he dropped his bag, an idea. Why not grab a broom and clean up a little? Anything to get out of the doghouse.

He worked his way around the living room but froze when he hit the hallway.

Two sets of footprints on the dusty hardwood floor. One small, human. The other freakishly large, otherworldly.

Both led to his daughter’s bedroom.

He put his ear to the door, his pulse racing.

“Daddy,” came the whisper.

He reached for the knob, twisted.

He didn’t want to go in. Now he had to.

Two young kids roughhousing. One tripped and started crying. Your typical playground horsecrap.
But my boy saw an opportunity and sprinted to his classmate’s side. He crouched down, pulled a lopsided white paper square from his pocket.
The waterworks stopped instantly. The kid stared at the homemade card, puzzled.
When my son came back to the park bench, I had questions.
“I told him he should sue. Then I gave him my business card. Just like you do,” he said.
A damn chip off the old block.
I didn’t know whether to burst into tears or give him a job.

Game night. Tipoff was in twenty and Jerry couldn’t find the remote. He kicked himself for not realizing sooner. This wasn’t unexpected.

She always hid it somewhere easy – under the couch, behind a lamp – but today’s spot was bordering on the diabolical.

Again, not unexpected. His mother despised basketball. But he thought her blind hatred for the sport would’ve died with her.

He found the remote tucked inside the freezer. A first.

Thankfully, it worked. But now he had to deal with a petulant parent.

“Keep it up and I’ll call the realtor," he warned.

“Then who will you haunt?” 

A man of science to his core, but even he could appreciate the dramatic flavor of this tranquil September afternoon.

Dr. Swanson waded into the chilly Pacific, heavy stones in his coat pockets pulling at him.

He looked back towards the shore at the two dozen androids lined up along the water’s edge, their eyes glowing green, bodies reflecting the bright sun.

In two short years his genius had given them life. They answered with death.

He turned away, let the frigid water rise past his chest and kept walking.

Better to end it now than witness what comes next.