The Real Dad

“You have reached a point in your existence where I need to reveal something,” Dad said. He stood in front of me with a floppy, farmhand’s hat bent on one side. His flannel shirt, open in front, hung over the belt line of his blue jeans.

“If you’re going to take away the car, I’m going to be pissed,” I said.

“No, nothing like that. I am not from here,” he was cautious with his words.

“You’re not from Detroit?” I didn’t understand.

“No, I’m not from Earth.”

There was a pause. Somehow I knew he wasn’t joking.

“Really…” I didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah, I arrived some twenty five years ago – damn ship crashed into the Atlantic ocean.” He looked into my face.

On the order of shock, I rated this ‘Off the Charts’.

“Wait – you’re kidding right?” I asked. He didn’t appear to have ‘kidding’ on his face when he shook his head no. “Awe…come on. That’s not even funny. It’s not real – you’re just joking with me…right?”

“Real deal, son.” He looked past me to the field behind. I thought about this more.

“So what does that make me?” I asked in an alarmed tone of voice.

“At least a half breed. Look, I wasn’t even sure I was going to tell you, but in the next few years you will develop some abilities you might want to keep in check.” He grabbed my arm. There was a sensation I had not felt before. It was like I could step into my dad’s head.

That’s when it became clear – he really was from some other planet.

“Ahhhh…does Mom know?” I asked, breaking free.

Dad laughed so hard, I almost joined him.

One Response to “The Real Dad”
  1. Gaboo says:

    That was strange and funny, Trularin. Potentially true?

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