Daddy Donald's Second Wind

"There was only one rule: don’t open the door.” Parental guider Donald earlier scribbled on a writing pad, warning his only child.

Laughing at the commandment, Francine texted her boyfriend, “Daddy Donald does not want me to allow anyone into his castle.”

Continuing into the living room the promiscuous teenager felt the preset heat and decided a few buttons needed unlatching, “if Daddy Donald does not turn down the temperature, I am going to have to,” tease fully grinning, Frankie tempted fate, “clear the air,” the adolescent finished the sentence, allowing a cool breeze to filter through the cozy furnace.

“Hi, Mom,” she exclaimed, “did you see the major hunk Daddy wanted me to spend time with?”

Hearing no response, she ventured over to the fireplace which was roaring with choreographed dancing flames. “Things are going well Mom,” Frankie explained, “how is everything on your side?”

Still not getting any answers she decided to go under the covers, forgetting to shut the door.

Hours later a disturbance invaded Poppa’s palace, “whoops,” she whispered.

“I told her not to open the door, okay Angela, what do you want?”

“I blew in to make sure you got home safe from your second wind,” the ghostly figure stated before going into a satanic spastic rage.

Dawn finally arrived starting a new day, going downstairs, Francine’s innocent eyes observe dear old Dad slashed from a tongue lashing and acknowledged the scene, “Good morning, Dad,” she paused, “Mom.”

Heading outside to get the paper she peered up noticing her Father knows best beau catch sitting next to the high school cheerleader. “Oh, that is nice Daddy brought home a doggie bag for Harold,” she commented describing the lovely carcasses resting in peace.