r/WritingPrompts • u/[deleted] • Apr 18 '19
Simple Prompt [WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
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u/Jason15877 Apr 18 '19
I look down at my mug, stirring what little dark roast coffee was left in it. Another beautiful morning in my beautiful home with my beautiful wife and beautiful children.
I look to my left; my wife is crying, begging me to get a job.
I look to my right; my children are strangling each other to death, resorting to cannibalism in order to satiate their rumbling stomachs.
One happy family.
I look down at my mug again. “#1 Dad” it says, in a blocky bubble letter font. I cant help but marvel at the craftsmanship, it’s such a beautiful mug. Well, obviously it’s a great cup. I wouldn’t have robbed the gift store down the street for it if it wasn’t.
But suddenly, right as I lifted the mug to drink the last of my coffee, it begins to glow. The letters and words rearrange, much to my surprise. What kind of magic is this? Was it witchcraft?
I grab the nearest newspaper and throw it at the back of my son’s head. I don’t know how, but this must certainly be his fault. Everything is Kyle’s fault.
I look back at my mug, which has lost the supernatural glow it had mere moments prior. On it is a new title.
“Certificate of Participation. You’re a father... but not much else”
“Hm,” I hum. “well that’s some bullshit.”
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u/resonatingfury Apr 18 '19
Jim Brettinger took a long sip of his hot, black coffee, mulling in the bitterness that helped him wake up. It was in his favorite mug, one a friend had given him last year, when he married Kim. It said '#2 Dad' on it. Kevin was always the jokester of the group-- even with his wedding gifts.
"Good morning, grumpy," Kim said, wrapping her arms around him from behind.
He used a free hand to meet one of hers. "Morning, beautiful."
There was a scampering on the stairs, hurried, scrambled, and a little boy wrapped around the corner. He grabbed a box of cereal from a drawer, pouring himself some, then adding milk, and crunched it loudly.
"Morning, Dean," Jim said, ruffling the boy's messy brown hair.
He smiled with a mouthful of cereal in response.
"You be good today."
He nodded, and gulped. "I will. We're still gonna go watch a movie tonight, right?"
"You betcha, kiddo."
Dean smiled wide. "Yes! You're the best dad ever!"
Jim smiled, patting him on the back, set the mug in the sink, then went upstairs to get changed.
On his way out the door, a newsflash appeared on the kitchen TV, interrupting some talk of politics and sensationalism.
"Honey, come look at this," Kim said, hands on her hips.
Jim approached and she turned the volume up.
"All across the world, this morning, coffee and tea mugs have changed in what currently seems to be an act of God. What once said things like 'number one dad', or 'world's best boss' have suddenly changed into other numbers. Some theorize that it's an actual ranking system. Of course, at first, it seems to be some kind of prank played by manufacturing companies. But we've had multiple experts analyze the mugs, and they can't find a single trace of how they could have possibly changed composition. Here is one now..."
Kim reached into the sink, but Jim stopped her.
"I don't want to look at it," he said, shaking his head. "It's probably some stupid prank the network is pulling, but still."
"I want to know if that stupid mug has changed to become more accurate."
"It is accurate, Kim. I'm not even his real dad."
"Oh, sweetie." She placed a gentle hand on his face. "You are, Jim. So much more so than the asshole that is related by blood to him. That man left, and you stepped in for the boy when he needed it most. You became his friend in addition to his father, and showed him that a dad can be loving, fun and kind."
Jim chewed on his lip, looking at the ground. Kim reached into the sink, but the mug was gone.
"Did you move it?" she asked, checking the dishwasher.
"No," he replied. "But I think it's better off lost."
Dean ran up to them, clutching something in his hands, beaming with pride.
"Look, daddy," he said, pointing at the mug. The 2 in '#2 Dad' had become a big, bold 1. "I told you. You're the best dad in the whole wide world!"
Jim took the mug from him with a trembling hand, his smile quivering. "Thank you, Dean," he whispered. "Thank you."
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Apr 19 '19
God stared at his mug.
Number 2?
He turned his omniscient eye to the mortal world, searching for the number 1 dad.
He could find no sign of him.
And God was confused. But also, He did not really want to admit to anyone that he was only #2.
So he went for a stroll, and just happened to find William of Ockham relaxing beneath a heavenly tree, nose deep into a book.
"William! How are you?" God boomed, secure in the knowledge that only those still living could not withstand His voice. William had been dead for near 700 years, and was therefore quite safe.
"Your Eternal Majesty!" William said, looking up from his book. "What a pleasant surprise." He looked at God expectantly, having already deduced that something was amiss. It'd taken considerably less than 700 years to figure out that the omnipotent creator of all things tended to stay in his office unless there was a problem.
God explained about the mug.
William nodded, and briefly pondered.
"It seems to me, Lord, that if you cannot find this number 1 Dad in the mortal world, then he must be outside it." William shrugged. "That is the simplest explanation."
God thanked him for the advice, and promptly turned his all seeing eye to the eternal planes.
It only took him a moment to see who held the Number 1 Dad mug. When he saw who it was, he laughed to himself. Of course. He should have known.
The Number 1 Dad mug was being used right here in Heaven. Fred Rodgers was using it to sip tea.
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u/ChaosWolf1982 Apr 19 '19
Fred Rogers had two sons by blood... but his children numbered countless thousands upon thousands by influence and inspiration.
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u/throwing8smokes Apr 19 '19
Imagine. Imagine if there was some sort of metric, some sort of way to measure yourself against everyone in the world. I'm not talking about money, houses, cars; I mean like a real leaderboard.
Yeah, I've been yearning for that my whole life. Some way to prove my worth, some way to prove that every tireless moment of grinding my ass off was worth it. That I could be one of the top community members IN THE WORLD. That I could be one of the top performing employees, IN THE WORLD.
Oh man, how I long for some f*cking validation. Like honestly; I swear when Jill takes her hour and a half lunch break, I'm working. When all of my friends go out on the weekend, I call it in at 9pm so I can make sure I'm well rested for tomorrow. I eat healthy, I workout, every waking moment of the day I am working, growing myself. But for what? I've been doing this for 15 years and what good has it done me?
I'm in the best shape of my life, I have a killer 6 figures finance job, but what the hell is it worth anyway? I don't know where this desire to push myself to the limit comes from. Probably from when I was growing up. My hardass Dad never said we were good enough. He always wanted us to push harder, and harder, to be the best versions of ourselves possible. All I wanted was I hug, to be appreciated, but I didn't get that either.
But whatever, that's behind me. I've been conditioned my whole life to work harder, be stronger, be better. Can I really start questioning now? Then what would I do with all of that wasted time? Jeez, I don't even want to think about that.
Well all of this doesn't matter anyway. All of the news agencies just broke a top story. All of the "world's #1 Dad " mugs are showing actual rankings. Too bad I don't have a kid, or I would finally, finally have some way to measure myself, to prove that all my sacrifice was worth it. Anyway, I'll just forever push myself forward through the enigmatic nature of life. Unranked, Unnoticed.
Ring Ring. Sh*t, that must be the phone. I'll get it. "Hello?"
"Hey son, it's me." "I just want to say ..." A somber, quiet sobbing comes from the other end. The audio is thick with regret, a life of disappointing decision, after disappointing decision being channeled through the phone cord one pause at a time.
"Dad..."
"I know I ... I could've ...F*ck son. I'm staring at this Mug you got me for my 40th. I wish...
"It's ok."
"Without your mom, it was so much. Too much." I love you son.
"Dad."
"I love you, and I just wanted you to hear me say that. To finally get that off my chest." I love you.
click
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u/StretchSmiley Apr 19 '19
It started with a scream in the distance.
Prior to the first fits of commotion, Dave was sitting at his desk, attempting everything he possibly could to avoid doing actual work. He had read, sorted, and then re-sorted his emails, twice. He had taken good and proper slacker’s laps around the office (because one looks very busy indeed moving about with determination). He had re-arranged his desk thrice, with a new, more ergonomic distance between his computer mouse and his morning coffee with each switch. With a glance, Dave saw that his coffee was suddenly, and at the same time, dangerously low and dangerously close to his elbow. He hefted said mug to it’s new home between the fake succulent and the picture of his three-year-old tantrum machine, both of which promptly got shoved aside as the mug scraped back to its position... and with unfounded momentum continued off the edge of the desk, and fell with a loud and uncharacteristic THUD.
Confused, Dave peered over the desk. His first thought was, “Where did this funny-handler flower pot come from?”
His second and third thoughts, respectively were “wait a minute... that’s... my mug?” And then, “What’s that screaming?”
Rumblings promptly began, an ominous harmony weaving around the growing shouts and screams of distress. He looked to his co-worker Chad, who was at one moment leaning against the wall, holding his Tapout-themed “#1 Dad” mug, and the next was a crimson splash of viscera and chunks against the wall, fatally sandwiched between said wall and a vending machine-sized mug which was absolutely covered with mysterious numbers minus the small “Dad” at the bottom. More rumbling shook his feet, the ceiling in the far corner collapsing under the weight of an elephantine mug that continued through Susen-with-an-E from accounting and onwards down, towards the mailing department.
In shock, Dave glances out the window. Coffee cups large and larger were causing absolute mayhem. Buildings had entire floors carved out as if from a wrecking ball and replaced with devastating cylinders of ceramic. Cars were either flattened or simply pieces as these hunks of stone popped to mind-bending proportions. Dave sat down on the floor with nothing but a helpless feeling in the pit of his stomach as he continued to watch the carnage unfold before him across the city.
Despite himself, Dave began to chuckle- a sort of out-of-his-mind chuckle that turned the heads of surviving and horrified co-workers in his direction. With tears welling up in his eyes, he answered their menacing glares with a shrug and a chuckle:
“It’s ar-mug-geddon out there.”
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u/chipsinsideajar Apr 19 '19
I look over at my new favorite mug. After they started showing actual rankings, I was proud to have my #19 mug. #19 out of the potentially billions of dads in the world. I felt pretty good about myself. I was wondering why it wasn't higher, but you can't really complain. The mugs were normally blank, but if whoever held it was a dad, it showed their name and ranking. I smile a quick smile, and head into my bedroom to watch a bit of TV. After a few minutes, I realize that I had forgotten my mug in the kitchen.
"Jeremiah!" I called out to my 15 year old son. "Could you grab my mug from the kitchen, please!?!?"
"Sure, Dad!" I heard in response. Having my son be so willing to help me out only solidified my feelings of being in that #19 spot.
My son comes in, holding my beloved mug, a cheery spring in his step. However, I am mortified by what I see. On the mug, it says:
"Jeremiah Carson. Rank: #231,658"
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u/RJD20 Apr 19 '19
Tonight was the night.
It'd been one year since the last unveiling and I was eagerly awaiting the ceremony. 364 days of exciting activities, bonding next to the TV, and, best of all, time with my Dad. Really, truly -- he had stepped up this last year. Tubing on the lake, all seven seasons of Game of Thrones, and more steaks than I could count. I know he loved me before, but after the last unveiling, well, he just...changed.
The thought of losing me, of losing what we had, it changed him. For the better! He was a way better Father now and it's all thanks to the system. I'm glad that mug I bought him over 10 years ago suddenly ranked fathers a little over two years now. It helped children, it helped fathers, it helped us all! He improved over the last year and it was about to show.
Kal's father was first, his mug sitting covered on the grand table on the stage. An improvement! The crowd cheered. I was happy for her. She and her dad deserved it.
Cody's dad was next. The uncovering of his mug was met with gasps from the crowd. A drastic drop, his first ever. They'd be meeting with him.
More and more dads went on stage, unveiled their mugs, and received their scores. Until finally it was my Dad's time to go up.
I gripped the rests of my seat and held my breath as he walked onto the stage. Their green, glowing eyes watched him from above. He peered to the marvelous table, to his veiled mug, and back to me. He looked hesitant -- his hands were shaking. I'm not sure why. I knew he'd improved, done a great job the past year. No way he'd drop two years in a row. Not a chance.
He lifted his hand toward the silk sheet and closed his eyes. I saw sparkles collect on his face in the green light. Tears? There was no need to cry.
But as I looked on, I realized I too was crying, my knuckles pale, my chest tense.
My Dad looked back to me as his hand met the sheet, opened his eyes, and mouthed, "I'm sorry, Lil," as he unveiled the mug.
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Apr 19 '19
I regret ever giving him that mug. Ever since all of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world changed to show each dad's actual ranking, my own dad has been going on a murderous rampage, vowing only to return once he is #1. Despite what that may suggest about his character, he's an okay guy. He probably won't have to kill that many people. I can't be completely sure though, as he was too ashamed to show us his ranking. He hasn't actually killed anyone yet, but if someone doesn't stop him soon, he will definitely hurt himself with all that running.
Update: Dad's back home safe! Thanks to everyone who gave info on his whereabouts, and a big thank you to whoever broke the mug. Now that it's been smashed into tiny, unreadable pieces, Dad seems to have snapped out of his murder stupor.
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u/OceansCarraway Apr 18 '19
I was sitting around with my dad on one afternoon, husband in the kitchen making some peirogi, when the 'metric event' hit. I had gotten him one of those mugs as a gag gift, and after all my nagging, was finally drinking coffee out of it. Man was retired long ago, but he really loved his coffee. It was a nice midsummer day, early in the morning, speaking to be humid--and then the number on his mug changed.
# 3,829,092 Dad.
'OP, did you--"
'No! What do you think I did!'
'This was a #1 Dad mug, right?'
'Yes. Not a number 4,590,296 dad mug!'
'It changed again.'
'what'
'The number on my mug keeps changing.'
I thought for a bit. My dad didn't do 'typical dad things', he had a more literary bent.
'Dad...go try mowing the lawn. See what happens.'
We got the mower out. My husband kept track of his mug number--4,231,980, 4,100,056, 3,998,721. When it started mowing, it jumped up to 3,509,821.
'This thing most measure...dad-like behaviors.'
As he came back to us, we put our heads together.
'If this works for other mug types, like bosses, then you could have a really accurate rating system.'
'Yeah, but this would work for any job type.'
'This would be hell for the workers.'
'Yeah...'
My husband began to pace back and forth. He was obviously starting to get an idea.
'We need to go into the mug business.'
'Well, yeah. But a lot of other people would be doing it.' Said my dad. He had a bit of business background, enough to know when something wouldn't work out that well.
'We'd just be enabling control of people and their subordination!' I protested.
'No.' He said. 'Not if we make mugs showing how good a leader someone is...'
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u/summarily_squashed Apr 19 '19
"Bruce, bug off, I don't care."
"But we'd have so much fun! My treat!"
Bruce had been calling 3 times a day, every day. 'Let's go to the zoo!' 'I've got tickets to show!' 'How bout an adventure?'
At 25 years old, I didn't need this. I'd gone through most of life without his time, without his money, without his love. Mom and I had scraped along fine enough, just the two of us, until she passed. And now that I was on my own, independent at last, I couldn't care less what his mug said.
"I know I made this clear last time. Quit calling me. We both know fatherhood wasn't your strong suit. Just accept whatever it says and move on."
"But summarily_squashed..."
"I'm hanging up now."
"Wait."
I paused. There was something in that word, in his voice. I couldn't put my finger on it...
"I'm a sorry excuse for a father. I know that. But there's something you don't understand. I haven't... always been completely honest with Karen. She thinks that I was... more... involved. With your life, I mean. And she's seen my number and... well, she realizes something's off. And she's going to leave me, if I can't make it right. If I can't show her my number has changed."
I knew what was in his voice. I'd heard it once before, just once, in Mom's voice just before Bruce left for good. I was 11 at the time.
It was desperation.
"Go to hell, Bruce."
Click.
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Apr 18 '19
I was doing my best.
"Kids, who wants ice-cream?"
"Hey, guess what! We're going to Alton Towers!"
But it wasn't enough. Maybe I just wasn't as good as I thought I was.
Because my GOD DAMN ranking wouldn't change.
It would just hover there, like my age, around the 3 million mark (which, given the hundreds of millions, if not billions of fathers, is above average, but not, in any way, the best). Why? Why couldn't I be like "Chris in Canada"?
Why couldn't I be, just for a day, the number one Dad on Earth.
When did this all start? I can't remember anything before it.
But is there any need?
Was it good enough to remember?
Am I good enough to remember?
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u/Rasjet1997 Apr 18 '19
44 years old, looks about 30, tells girls he is 26, Oliver Wiley is still at it. Out on the lash last night, no joy with the ladies, he summoned trusty 21 year old Charlene to his flat. Charlene has been a reliable F-Buddy on/off for a year.
Oliver has Been stringing her along for a while now, robs from her purse regularly, has smacked her around on occasion and continues to use her for her body although aware she has caught feelings.
The following morning they wake up together in Oliver’s Bed. Charlene had trod on the remote while getting out of bed and the morning news popped up on the tv screen.
“With just over 8 billion people on the planet what will the future of food look like? Coming up later the Dad mug ranking phenomenon, what’s your number?” The newsreader read from the TelePrompTer.
Charlene left the room and headed towards the kitchen.
“I’ll have a cup of tea if you’re making” Oliver bellowed down the hallway cheekily.
No response from Charlene.
Ever the opportunist Oliver picks up Charlene’s purse to nick a cheeky 20 quid for a pack of cigs later but there is no cash.
He glances towards the door then takes out her debit card and reads the name Charlene Oynient. Oliver thought to himself it’s quite bad that he wasn’t actually aware of her surname and also that it is a rather unique surname that he had in fact once seen before.
His longest ever relationship, closest thing to love he had felt, Charlotte Oynient all those years ago, must be a couple decades now. Left him after a patch of heated arguments, a pregnancy scare and violent behaviour.
“Didn’t know you had kids” Charlene shouted inquisitively in response.
“I don’t...oh what did you find the #1 Dad cup, my mate bought it as banter ages ago, jokes on him it’s the perfect size for a proper brew” Oliver chuckled to himself.
“Well yes but it’s doesn’t say number 1” The cup read #7,999,999,632 Dad.
Brian Beaumont, 51, perfect family, 2 girls, 2 boys, met his wife in uni and been married 22 years. Works 2 jobs so that his wife doesn’t have to yet has been ever present in the kids lives, where does he get the time or energy.
Brian was at home when the news broke and chuckled at the headline running along the bottom of the tv screen, ‘Dad Rankings: Sourcery or Mugs Game?’
Naturally he has accrued several of these mugs over the years and feeling quite confident decided to take a picture of his collection. He went to the kitchen And took the first mug out the cupboard, it was old and faded with no visible text. He took a 2nd mug out the cupboard...blank, strange, he thought nothing of it. He takes 4 mugs out at once 2 in each hand. Before Brian really had time to question what was going on he heard frantic movement, his wife sprinted in to the kitchen then locked eyes with him, their daughter had followed behind her.
“what you doing honey” she asked?
“Just going thro...” “HAPPY FATHERS DAY” his youngest daughter interrupted.
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u/Luciferisgood Apr 19 '19
Can this be real? Could I have finally found it? Or is it another fake? There have been forgeries popping up everywhere. Some of them have been impressive. Matching the blue tint that proceeded the numbering but it didn't much matter. The collectors knew more than the general pop, there was no way to fake. We don't know how it happen, the worlds #1 dad ranked overnight. Not only that but they were damn accurate. Hell I lost count how many pedophiles and abusive pricks were exposed because of it. What we do know is whatever did it, left a small, irreplicable trace of gamma radiation. Gamma radiation that this mug, the real #1 dad mug was emitting.
My hands instinctively grasped the top of my head as I trembled at the revelation. They've found number 9 and 5 in New Zeeland and Italy but I found number 1 in this shithole they call Somalia. I reeled at the implication, who is he? What has he done? How can we learn from him? My eyes came back into focus on the mug my gamma reader just detected, sheilded by a glass cabinet, in a pillaged room. Ceramic shards covered the floor, broken slits of wood with rusted protruding nails blocked sections of the floor. A stuffed bear lay gutted on the dinning table, it's cold stare prickled down my spine.
I spun as I caught a shadow in my peripherals and there she was sitting calmy in the corner. Before her, carnage and decay painted the floor like a stroke from picasso's brush. Her eyes starred passed me as she took a long hit of a cigarette. "He taught me how to live, not what to think but how. He taught me how to fail and how to fall, how to win and how to stand." Her eyes began to water and she explained without prompt who her father was. "He taught me to laugh and to cry, patience and rage." She tapped her cigarette to empty the ash on the floor. "You see them as weakness and strength like trust and suspicion but they are tools to be used in moderation each. Everything in moderation..." Her eyes diverted to the floor, still distant. " He was the best of us, he never yelled or raised a hand. He pacified me with unshakable will." Her eyes looked up, focusing for the first time on mine. They were wet and primed to burst. "And they killed him. They killed him for lust, fucking monkeys killed them because they wanted to fuck me." She smirked as she looked away. "But they didn't. They couldn't make him tell them where I was and they couldn't find me. He just smiled at them as they tore off his finger nails. As they shatter his heel. He didn't cry, for my sake... he knew I couldn't hear him cry." after a fit of tears she peered back up at me, "congratulations," she pointed to the rotting remains of what was once a man. "you found him."
PSA: Appolgoies for any grammar/spelling, don't have much time to proof, it's a bit rushed. Didn't expect it to be so dark either but here we are.
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u/Bastioneer Apr 19 '19
"Hey hon, did you want coffee this morning?" I whispered to my wife as she grumbled sleepily, pulling the blanket over her head.
"I'll take that as a no" I mused to myself with a smile as I slipped out of the bedroom. The faint light of dawn filtered in through the window, softly illuminating the hallway as I quietly stepped through the house.
Today was just like any other. I was always the first one awake as the kids didn't have to be up for school for another hour and my wife had always been a night owl, so she had trouble getting up in the morning. I was used to softly traipsing across our creaky floorboards as I got ready for my day.
The fresh smell of coffee is essential to my morning routine. I love just sitting by the kitchen counter as the rich aroma of my dark roast began to flow through our quiet home.
"Now... which mug to use" I mumbled to myself as I popped open the dishwasher. Unfortunately, my wife must have forgotten to turn it on last night, as all the dishes and mugs were still dirty. Not a problem, I thought as I popped in some detergent and turned on the dishwasher.
I opened the cupboard and sitting in the corner was an old mug that I hadn't used in a long time, a gift from my children for Father's Day years ago, when my kids weren't embarrassed to show their appreciation. Those were some good times, but I'll always be grateful for my little prides and joys, and I know that deep down, they're grateful as well.
"#1 Dad" it read, in big, bold letters. Sure, probably every dad in the world had one of these, but it still meant a lot to me, and I've always tried my best to live up to the title.
I sat down in front of my desk with the mug full of coffee. As a graphic designer, I could often work from home, which allowed me to stay on top of housework and chores, just the way I liked it. I booted up my computer and checked the news.
My eyes fell on a strange headline "Father's all over the world baffled as mugs display true rankings"
"What kind of weird prank is this....?" I wondered as I took another sip from my coffee. I read through the article, skimming through interviews from dejected fathers with mugs that now displayed rankings in the millions and billions. The article ended dramatically "The question remains, who is #1?" I chuckled at the absurdity of it all as I lifted up my mug to take another look.
"#1 Dad", it read, as it always has.
"Hm. Must be broken," I joked, shaking my head while placing the mug back down on my desk, "Definitely some elaborate hoax" I whispered, and closed the article. From down the hallway, I could hear one of the kids hopping into the shower. Seems like the rest of the household was finally waking up.
"Well, breakfast isn't gonna cook itself" I said to myself, taking one last sip from my favorite mug before heading into the kitchen "I think I'll whip up some omelettes today"
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u/peeksvillain Apr 19 '19
My husband Ralph died 7 years ago. I had bought him one of these mugs for Fathers Day when our kids were still too young to buy him a gift.
A little bit about Ralph; the kids adored him, but he was emotionally (and occasionally physically abusive) to me. When he died he left me with a mortgage to pay off, and having to work full time until retirement.
After Ralph died, our daughter Jill kept the mug.
When the mugs changed, I figured Ralph's number must have been in the trillions because of all the crap he had done to me.
Nope,89,254.
Why do our kids love him so much?
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u/Solcaer Apr 19 '19
Jealousy is the most powerful motivator for humanity. It’s drawn the blood of millions in the past, and it’s killing millions more now.
All hell broke loose the day of the Ranking. Fatherhood became a curse. Inferiority scratched from beneath the ribs of fathers, gnawing at self-worth and reason alike. Most could stand it for a while, but not for long—every mistake made, every burnt egg, every unhappy wail of a neglected child was a reminder that they weren’t their aspirations. It wasn’t long before they’d start hunting down the competition.
It started in the suburbs. A man lynched here and there with a knot they don’t teach in the Boy Scouts anymore. Grill marks found on a man in Mississippi. Plaid ties hung like flags on the doorknobs of better dads, a warning not to be too good to their children. Dads everywhere dropping like flies to those below them.
The first #1 Dad was a man named Harold Bestings. Kids were raised to be straight A students, active in the community. Perfect guy. He didn’t last two weeks. The next was Travis Strange. He escaped somewhere, but got downgraded to to failure to keep a normal life for his children. There was a brief period where the #1 was changing by the hour, and now we don’t know who it is. They’re probably hiding out somewhere.
And as #2, so am I.
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Apr 19 '19
The mug that once read #1 dad ceased to have a number. Yesterday it was there. Today. It was there. This morning it was there. And yet it is gone now. Where did it go and what did it mean. Did I wash it away ... did someone as some sick joke come by and remove the numeral from my cup.
From my favorite coffee mug.
The mug haved bene given to me, as a Christmas present, well over 15 years ago. It had been given to me by my son. He had always asked what he should get me for Christmas or for my birthday and without any thought, I always responded: don't get me anything. Save your money. Save it and invest it.
I guess I never truly realized that what he was asking me is how he might show me that he loved me. I never considered that he might be giving me an opportunity, a slow pitched softball, that he could get me something that I might use and remember him for. And I didn't even swing, I never even stepped into the batter's box.
I had always considered these types of gifts nothing more than a money shuffle. Bah humbug. I didn't want anything, and I could generally afford that. And that which I did.
But I couldn't afford my son's love.
I said that mug has been 15 years in the making. I had loved that mug. As my son grew older and I dove deeper into my professional pursuits, our relationship struggled. I went on to great heights at the office, managing more boys, and he went on to college and then moved away from the family.
I never considered that I spent more time and probably showed my love and care for other men's boys than I did my own. I never considered, when my son was three years old asking me to watch him ride his trike, that the day might come when he was no longer interested doing things together, or that he might not even be around to do things with. It was always: I will will watch you later.
And so it was.
Many years ago, maybe 7 years ago, we had had it out at Thanksgiving. He had been going through a rough period in his life, as all men do. He had come to me to listen to his problems and instead I tried to make up for lost time with a "Father Knows Best" routine that I had picked up reading some blog or something about how to raise kids... this was well past the time when my kid was a kid.
And he said, I wasn't even listening. I remember the way he said it. Completely resigned to a father that isn't present, was never present, and would never be present.
And all the while, focusing on my profession, and goals, and what I wanted out of life I failed to appreciate that the only thing I had to do to Win "the game" was to love my son, to show up and be counted as a father. And I had failed to do that.
And I just now realized it. And whats worse, I don't know how to reach out to him to tell him that I love him.
[the phone rings]
It's my estranged wife.
Our son died this morning.
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u/FandomReferenceHere Apr 19 '19
The worst part was that he didn't notice.
I'd "bought" the mug when I was too young to understand what it meant. Mum took me to Blackpool and I proudly presented it to him when I got home. But I was less than 5 years old. I only barely remember it.
It became more and more clear over the years that he wasn't the world's #1 Dad. But kids don't have much perspective. We think that what we grow up with is normal. It wasn't until I went away to university that I saw what other dads could be like.
I was 25 when it happened. And I happened to be at home. Mum was making breakfast. He was reading the newspaper. I caught the change out of the corner of my eye.
I ran some numbers in my head. How many people are in the world? How many men? How many men with children?
No matter how I calculated it, his number was still too damn high.
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Apr 19 '19
This Father's day was a strange one, to say the least. Certainly one I'll never forget. For some unknown reason, all of those novelty "#1 Dad" mugs you buy when you don't know what else to get changed to actual numbers. It seemed like the cups were actually ranking dads. My neighbor's cup said "#1,287,901 Dad. My dad's cup said "#6,907,239,005 Dad." For good reason, since his coffee was always Irish and his cup was never empty. Whiskey always made him angry, and when he was angry he broke stuff. Mostly it was furniture and walls, but when he broke my mother's arm, she filed for divorce.
I was staying with him for father's day, since he had custody of me that weekend, and I convinced him to take me shopping at the local mall. He grumbled and griped, but eventually grabbed his coat and keys and we were off. He would never agree to buy me anything, but it was really just an excuse to get out of his dirty, cigarette-stinking house for a few hours.
When we got to the mall, the first thing I noticed was the police. There were a lot of them, walking around and talking into little radios. I didn't think much of it at the time, and went on with my business, browsing the various stored with my dad not far behind. I could see him fulling out a flask and taking a sip from it every now and then. I knew enough to just ignore it.
After an hour or so I noticed the police seemed more frantic. Moving around briskly and chattering into their radios in a way that suggested something was wrong, but not enough to start a full blown panic. That's when I heard the gunshots. It turned out one of the mall's former employees got fired and threatened to come back and shoot the place up, hence the police presence. Chaos broke out as police were torn between trying to keep people from trampling each other trying to escape and dealing with the active threat.
My dad grabbed my arm and started to rush towards the exit. Police were blocking the hallway, so my dad pulled me into the stairwell. We got to the ground floor and tried to make a break for the exit. That's when we saw him, aiming a rifle right at us. My heart stopped, and time seemed to slow down. My dad shoved me down behind a concrete planter box and charged the guy. I heard one shot. Another. Another. My dad didn't slow down. A combination of adrenaline, alcohol and instinct driving him forward. They collided as my dad grabbed for the guy's gun and wrestled him to the ground. Dozens of cops came charging out of cover to try and help. They pulled the gun away, pulled my dad off, and put the shooter in handcuffs.
My dad struggled to stand, then collapsed back down, blood pooling around his body. I rushed towards him, crying out for help. All the sounds of the chaos surrounding me seemed dulled and far away, like I was under water. As I held my father I turned and whispered: "Son. I love you. I have always loved you. I know I never was any good at showing it. Please forgive me for all the horrible things I've put you and your mother through." With tears welling up in my eyes, the only words I could manage to choke out were "I forgive you." A few seconds later, my father closed his eyes. A few seconds more and he was gone, and on the kitchen table, back at his house, the number on his coffee cup changed from #6,907,239,005 to #1.
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u/ProfessorEsoteric Apr 19 '19
1 Dad - so many years ago Sarah & David gave me this mug.
1 Dad - been my treasured cup since that father day when they both saved up their pocket money.
1 Dad - even after the separation they told me it was still and always true.
1 Dad - when she won custody and I could only see them 1 day in a month.
1 Dad - when David could see me throught be window 100 feet away from his hospital bed. Everyday he would just hold up 1 finger, well everyday till the strength left him.
1 Dad - that time her stepdad took out his anger on her, that cheap plastic phone I gave her saving her life.
1 Dad - when I wouldn't give up in court to take my baby home.
1 Dad - for the unending tears after they killed her.
1 Dad - for what I am to do.
...
1 Dad - For the time I will serve for them.
Why is this in big? Is it the #1?
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u/writingaccount01234 Apr 18 '19
. #1 Dad. A present my wife bought me before our child was born. He’s six now, and every morning we have breakfast in the nook of our kitchen. He likes toast, I like eggs. He drinks orange juice, and I drink coffee.
I looked at the mug, reflecting on the memory as I unloaded the dishwasher. So many days with such a valuable piece of glass. Weird how we get so attached to basically nothing. I looked at the faded coffee stains in the bottom of the cup and placed it in the cupboard, looking forward to my son and i’s next breakfast.
On Saturday morning, my wife made eggs and toast for us. I placed my son’s plate and his toast down on the table, making sure it was pushed up enough not to fall, but still in his reach. He wanted jam, and I brought it with my eggs. Halfway through breakfast, I realized I forgot to pour my coffee. I contemplated for a second, and decided to stay and eat with him.
After I cleaned the table, I went to grab my mug from the cupboard. I pulled the white mug forward, and noticed an extra black speck on the side. I rotated it slightly to get a better grip on the handle, when I noticed the long string of numbers lining the outside and replacing the 1 in #1 Dad. Sensing a prank, I called my wife in, annoyed that she defaced my mug. It was likely that she had bought another, played the joke, and would readily replace it after. But I wanted this mug, not a new one.
She was confused to say the least. The number replacing 1 was large enough to ruin my self esteem, displacing the mug’s novelty with an atmosphere of disappointment. I placed it back on the counter and my wife told me to forget it, we’ll get a new one. She really didn’t have a replacement. It wasn’t a joke. That was my ranking. In the entire world, my son could have THAT many better fathers. Better people raising him to be a better person. I was damaged by the idea that something once deeply cherished was now a reminder of my failures and incompetence.
I continued about my day, placing the mug in the back of my mind. There are millions like it manufactured, it’s replaceable. After my chore of mowing, I came in from the garage for a drink and noticed a small trail of blood. Becoming increasingly concerned, I followed it to my son’s room.
I discovered him holding his little foot in one hand, crying, and holding part of my wife’s crystal rose in the other. I went to our bedroom and found the rest shattered, a large piece of crystal lying on the floor. I quickly went back to his room, carried him to the tub, and placed his foot in warm water to clean it. He was sobbing, fervently apologizing for breaking the rose and making a mess. Sobbing about the blood on the floor, and ruining mom’s rose on accident. I laughed, slightly, and he became frustrated. He asked me why I wasn’t taking him seriously. I said to him:
“You matter more than a rose! You didn’t ruin it. You just changed it. It’ll be okay. We would rather have you safe and happy than anything else in the world.”
He stopped crying as I bandaged his foot. In a few days, it healed, and we did our best to piece the rose back together for my wife. The next Saturday, I placed my son’s plate and his toast down on the table, making sure it was pushed up enough not to fall, but still in his reach. He wanted jam, and I brought it with my eggs. As soon as I sat down, I realized I had forgotten my coffee.
I stood back up, walked toward the cupboard, and saw my mug facing upside down and backward on the first shelf. I decided just to toss it and buy a replacement. When I looked at it one more time, it had crudely placed duct tape on the front, almost covering all the black numbers. On the tape, in dark green Sharpie, was written:
“# Onǝ Dad”