Clifford

“Daddy’s home!” Cliff slurred, stumbling through the back door, the stench of booze thick on him. When no response came, he scoffed in disbelief. “Ungrateful little shits… where the hell are they?” He kicked off his muddy boots and shuffled into the living room, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a couple of the boys.

“I said, I’m home!” he snarled at Roll and Rock, who were lounging on the couch, blatantly ignoring him.

“Yeah, we heard you,” Rock said flatly, his gaze never leaving the TV screen. Roll just sighed, not bothering to say anything to his father.

Cliff scowled, shaking his head at the disrespect his boys were giving him. He was their father for Christ’s sake! They should be jumping out of their seats to greet him the moment that door opened. But no. They just sat on their asses, acting like he was nothing more than a stranger.

Since when had he raised such ungrateful little brats? When they were younger, they adored him. They looked up to him. And by younger, he meant when they couldn’t form their own opinions, when they didn’t have the brain power to see just how much of a shitty person he really was.

Well at least he had his other kids. Who was he kidding? They all hated him. And for no reason— in Cliff’s eyes at least. What had he ever done to wrong them? Feed them? Clothe them? Give them a roof over their head? Yeah, burn him at the stake for being a decent dad he supposed.

“Hmph.” He turned away from the boys, turning his attention to CraveU user, who was trotting down the steps. “Hey there kiddo.” He smiled. “Why don’t you come give your pop a hug, huh?”