dad1

Paul Gets a "D.A.D." Daddy

PAUL GETS A "D.A.D." DADDY

Chapter One: Daddy Shep Flynn

Mr. and Mrs. Fredrick Hollander sat with Mr. Gregory discussing the ‘removal’ of their eleven year old son, Paul (aka Paulie by Mrs. Hollander).

"Just get him out of here," Mr. Hollander said bluntly. "That little fuck has wrecked one of my business dinners for the last time."

"You always think of yourself," Mrs. Hollander sneered at her husband. "I’m the one who’s always having to go into that lousy, stinking school. I don’t know why we pay all that money to a private school if they can’t control the children!"

Mr. Gregory allowed the Hollanders to rave for about fifteen minutes and then he thrust the paperwork in front of them and showed them where to sign.

He watched Mr. Hollander whip out a goldplated pen and doubled his hand into a fist. He longed to clip Mr. Hollander just below the chin and sent him hurtling back on his two million dollar ass.

Mrs. Hollander needed to have her ears boxed; an old English custom and one, Mr. Gregory thought, that would benefit her tremendously.

Mr. Gregory gathered the papers as he had done thousands of times in the past five years and put them into his brief case.

"Where is the boy now?" he asked.

"Somewhere..." Mr. Hollander said dismissively. He took a cigarette out of a gold case and tapped it before putting it into his mouth. He lit it with a matching lighter and dragged deeply. "I’ve always suspected that he wasn’t really my son."

Mrs. Hollander stood up and slapped her husband across the face. "You bastard!" she screeched. "That’s just your style. If something doesn’t work...it’s not yours." She turned and stalked out of the room, but she paused at the door to turn and scream. "He’s yours alright. A little bastard, spawn of the big bastard," and then she was gone.

Mr. Hollander stood with one hand clapped to his reddening cheek. "Now you know why the little shit is the way he is. I’m out of here."

Mr. Hollander headed for the door too.

Mr. Gregory sighed. "Does the boy know?" he asked the retreating Mr. Hollander.

Mr. Hollander shrugged, "How the fuck should I know. She’s supposed to be his mother."

"Is the OmniComp turned on?" Mr. Gregory asked, but Mr. Hollander was gone.

It didn’t matter. The paperwork was government approved and the Hollanders were no longer part of Paul Hollander’s life. The boy was now a government ward and that meant that he would be part of the "D.A.D." training program and a Daddy would be assigned immediately.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

During the Dark Years, when our planet underwent its most trying time, environmentally and socially, it was President Fuller who sanctioned the creation of strict environmental laws and the establishment of the "Applied Psychology/ D.A.D." programs in the United States.

These programs were so extraordinarily successful that they swiftly networked around the globe. Everywhere, people were ready for discipline and structure. Everyone was ready, but not everyone was able to accomplish it.

Men and women, trained by APPLIED PSYCHOLOGY and "D.A.D." programs were educated and biologically enhanced to become leaders and role models.

D.A.D. centers were established in areas throughout the globe where boys and girls could be sent for remediation and retraining. Most of these youngsters had suffered from the same phenomenon; disconnected parents who lacked the natural instinct or desire to parent, although they had apparently felt differently about procreation.

"D.A.D." stood for Discipline and Devotion, and the centers had a no-failure record of success.

Most recently, the government had started pilot programs mandating parents to undergo "D.A.D." training whether they wanted to or not.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mr. Gregory walked over to the OmniComp unit mounted to one side of the large mahogany desk.

The computer was on and the portal (which resembled an airport metal detector) was glowing softly.

Mr. Gregory took out his "D.A.D." catalog and his folder on Paul Hollander; a picture of the eleven year old was digitized into the folder cover. It showed a dark haired little boy with a bad attitude etched into his face. The smirk on Paul (Paulie’s) lips practically spit at you when you looked at it and the glasses he wore, rather than giving him the intellectual owlish look that it gave to most small boys, made the eleven year old look arrogant.

Mr. Gregory knew all about Paul; he always did his homework and had gathered information from the parents (much of what they told him was a useless as themselves) from the Paul’s prestigious private school, and from ‘other’ sources. The other sources were the government officials that worked for "D.A.D." but who could be sent out to play the part of teachers, librarians, police officers, traffic guards, etc. whenever "D.A.D." was researching someone.

All of Mr. Gregory’s information said the same thing. Paul Hollander was a brat! He had been put in control and was, subsequently, out of control! He lacked DISCIPLINE and DEVOTION and was a prime candidate for a "D.A.D." dad. Indeed, if Mr. Gregory had not been called by Mr. and Mrs. Hollander, it was very likely that the government would have stepped in anyway, before Paul could be as much a drag on society as his parents were.

Mr. Gregory opened the "D.A.D." catalog purposefully and turned to the Daddy that he had already decided was perfect for Paulie Hollander. Mr. Gregory couldn’t resist smiling at the full-page color photograph of Shep Flynn. He turned to the back of the page and reread Shep’s bio. Shep was one of the "D.A.D." Dads who opted to do his parenting on his own home turf rather than at a "D.A.D." or Applied Psychology Center. Judging from what he did privately, and from his appearance, no one would guess that the man was a brilliant psychologist, athlete and writer. Certainly, Paul Hollander wouldn’t....at least not at first.

Mr. Gregory typed a code into the computer of the OmniComp and was instantly connected to "D.A.D., Inc." Now, Mr. Gregory typed in Shep Flynn’s code and triggered the connection. Everything had been pre-arranged and Mr. Gregory knew that Mr. Flynn was awaiting this moment.

The portal began to glow more brightly, and in another moment was filled with a dazzling radiance. When the glow faded a large man stepped out.

"Mr. Gregory," the man said, extended a very hairy hand.

"Mr. Flynn," Mr. Gregory said smiling and taking the extended hand. Even by "D.A.D." standards, Shep Flynn was a big man.

"Where’s the boy?" Flynn asked.

Mr. Gregory smiled and shrugged. "His parents didn’t know. I suspect from his bio that he’s whereever they have their video game system. I would try the upstairs, perhaps the very top floor."

Shep Flynn adjusted the straps of his overalls on his bare shoulders and rubbed his large hand across his bearded face. "Boy know I’m comin’?" Flynn asked.

"No," Mr. Gregory said, and smiled again, "you’re going to be a big surprise Mr. Flynn."

"From what I read, this kid could use a few good surprises.....and some other things too."

"Indeed," said Mr. Gregory. He took up his briefcase. "I must go," he said. "Much luck with Master Hollander."

Shep winked at Mr. Gregory and headed out to find his boy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Video Arcade was in a large accoustically-tiled room at the top of the Hollander’s home. Two repairmen were working on one of the game units while Paul Hollander abused a set of control handles and another unit.

"This game sucks big time," the boy said. "I think it’s fixed so that you can’t possibly beat it."

The repairmen looked at each other and one of them whispered a bad word. Paul didn’t catch the word, but he felt it in the tone of the man’s voice. Never one to back down from a challenge, Paul threw his contoller at the monitor, breaking the plastic casing, and spun around.

"What did you say?!" he barked at the man.

The man, who was old enough to be the boy’s father, actually blanced in the face of Paul’s assertiveness.

"I said, ‘What did you say?’" Paul repeated.

"Who gives a hoot what you said," another voice broke in. The door of the room had burst open and was now filled by Shep Flynn. The two repairmen stared at the large figure, but Paul just got to his feet and put his hands on his hips.

"Who are you?" he sneered.

"Your daddy," Shep said.

Paul stared at the man. He was at least six foot four inches tall and looked like a hillbilly or some backwoods farmer. He had thinning dark hair, which was slicked back and tied into a long pony tail. He had a full dark beard outlining his face and heavy ached eyebrows. The man wore no shirt and his upper body was covered with springy black hair. That same body was covered with the very biggest muscles that Paul had ever seen.

The man wore jean overalls with a bib front and brown boots. There was a pocket in the bib and Paul spotted the mouthpiece of what appeared to be a corncob pipe. The man was an impossible figure in the environment of the Hollander home.

"Get out!" Paul yelled, and he started toward the side of the room where a series of buttons would summon a number of different household personnel.

Shep Flynn moved forward, very quickly for such a big man, and grabbed Paul’s hand before it reached the buttons. Paul swung out at Shep, but it was a puny gesture against the hairy giant. Shep took Paul up under his arm and locked him against his side.

"Hey!" one of the repairmen said.

Shep held out his hand, reached into the backpocket of his overalls and flashed his "D.A.D." card. The repairman understood at once and grinned broadly.

"Alright!" he said. He was the man who had said the ‘bad’ word.

"C’mon, son," Shep said to the flailing little boy, "let’s be on our way."

"Put me down you stupid primate!" Paul screamed.

"You just earned yourself a tanning," Shep said matter-of-factly and carried the boy out of the room.

Paul Hollander screamed, threatened, cursed and got red in the face as he was carried downstairs to the OmniComp. Shep Flynn smiled as he effortlessly bounced the boy against his side. He didn’t even try to talk to the kid, what would be the use; he was making too much noise to hear him.

"He’ll listen a whole lot better when I take a switch to his bare bottom," Shep thought.

He typed in a code and carried Paul Hollander into the portal.

"Where are you taking me?" Paul screamed.

"Home!" said Shep Flynn and they disappeared.

(to be continued)