Father, Meet Cut--Er, Daughter

Next time, Larry shrugged off the mental distraction.

Time to flip a girl's brain.

Looking through the list, he decided on one that caught his eye. Hesitation struck him. But only another look at the girls was enough to spur the scientist in him forward.

Actually, nah, screw science.

This was all monkey's paw trickster blood.

'RELATIONSHIP CHANGE COMPLETE'

Larry stood up, zipping up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulders, and got to work.

"Hey!" Stopping by the girls' little inner circle, he cleared his throat and looked them in the eye. Good start.

Meanwhile, behind his eyeballs: Crap crap crap crap this was a dumb idea, this was a dumb idea, crap, shit, fuck.

"Er, uh." He opened his mouth again. Insightful. The blond was giving him an odd look. Uh-oh. Did she smell it? The bullshit on him? Were they all on to his schtick somehow!?

Think, Larry, think! What do you say when you're surrounded by hot girls who you'd bend over and fuck at the drop of a hat going ugh, eugh, yeah, fuck me, fuck me harder, fuuck fucking meeee--

"D-Dad?"

The familiar, even toned voice of the brunette slapped Larry out of his manly rut. He looked sideways to see, indeed, that very brunette girl looking back at him with those eyes.

Striking brown, indeed. Almost could get lost in them this close.

Mmm.

"Oh crap," Marice began to say, then covered her mouth again.

"Uhhh, hi, Mr. McNeal," waved Carla with a courteous girl-laugh. "Amber," she darted her pupils in said girl's direction (with total innocent intent, no doubt), "didn't tell us you'd be coming along!"

"I didn't," Amber said, darting her own eyes to Carla before looking back to Larry mid-sentence. "In fact I'm pretty sure he said that he'd drop us off and pick us up at 4:30!"

Blatant emphasis was placed on said time.

It was this particular moment Larry decided to remember he was alive, that a trio of girls he'd never met before was waiting for him to say something, probably, and that he had no clue what.

"Uh, sorry... hun," Larry suddenly felt intensely nervous. But, placing all his faith, trust, and future riches on the stranger-than-fictional power of his relationship modulating ray (or RMR... yeah, RMR works), he trucked onward. "...but I decided that..! Uh, I wanted to go shopping for some new watches! Yeah! A watch! And maaybe, I dunno, tag along with you ladies for a while!"

Okay.

Here goes nothing.

With one swing of his arm, Larry slung his limb over the shoulder of this complete stranger of a girl, as pretty as she may have been, and his very age, over her shoulder, and squeezed it. He then brought her body against his, shaking it in, you know, that fatherly way, that fathers do, right along the crook of his armpit.

"Besides," went Larry, "I just love my lil' girl so much! What's wrong with some father-daughter time! Am I right, ladies?" Then, with all the derring-do he could muster, he moved his hand to squeeze her cheek. Softly, but it was a squeeze, not a modest pat on the back.

Thankfully, she had a nice, squishy cheek. As cute as one could have expected from a rosy nubile girl like herself.

"DAD!" shouted Amber, trying to wriggle away from Larry's cheek-squeezing, shoulder squishing grasp. "Dad, stop--" Squeeze. "We're--what did I ever do to you?"

Oof. That's a blow.

"Now now, Amber," Larry attempted authoritative. "I know what you might think. But I'm here now, and I do have some stuff I'd like to, you know, buy and stuff, and considering we're all here together, I don't see anything wrong with killing two birds with one stone! And might I remind you, I'm your ride?"

Whatever words were planned to depart her lips were squashed as Amber wrestled in silence against his side hug until he mercifully let go of her. Amber rubbed her arm sheepishly, looking down at the floor like it was suddenly a teleprompter.

"...fine."

She was so busy trying not to look at her girl-friends she didn't even notice Carla perking. "Hey! You know, I think I know just the place for a good set of watches for you, Mr. McNeal!"

"Huh, what? Oh! Ahem. Is that so?" Larry raised a brow, arms neatly folded. "Well... in that case... lead the way, young lady!"

He was struck with a scoff.

"Please, Dad, it's not like you're that much older than us," Amber remarked, rolling her eyes in typical teenaged aplomb. "You're like eighteen or something."

As they headed towards the main atrium, Larry nearly choked on an imaginary hairball and vomited it out all across his new daughter's kicks.

What did she just say!?

Wasn't that--

But--

If he was--

Oh bother, this was a headache.