>Leni will never be your daughter

Bright sunlight shone through the window and illuminated the walls of the kitchen, just in time for the blender to finish preparing the very first smoothie of the day. A good ten minutes were spent during its production, the majority of which involved brainstorming over a strange concept known as "flavor theory" rather than simply combining ingredients in a glass container.

After completing the final step of transferring some of the fruity mixture into two tall glasses, you reached a hand up to wipe the sweat from your brow. You figured that the very special someone in your life more than deserved a break from their rigorous diet of healthy blends, instead opting to reward them with a wonderfully sweet Raspberry-Banana Deluxe with an additional scoop of yogurt (having ruled out ice cream as being much too indulgent).

Once both glasses were securely transported to the kitchen table, you took a seat and grabbed up the latest edition of the Daily Tribune. Perhaps you could have gotten a tablet or similar device to comfortably catch up to the 21st century of media consumption, but alas, you've been saving up the wealth for a rather expensive Christmas present— once the recipient in question earns their learner's permit, of course. Either way, all things shall come in their own time, just like how you now get to skim through some quality newsprint. Hopefully that doesn't make you don't look TOO behind the times.

The faint rumbling of drawers opening and closing emanated from upstairs almost the exact moment you turned to the second page, a tell-tale sign that someone had finally woken up.

A faint cry of "Where are they, where are they?!" came from the same source amidst the ruckus, and you soon found yourself pondering over just what the object in question could have been, in addition to the sports section.

Shortly after, however, a door slammed open and rapid footsteps rushed towards and rumbled down the stairs, and you quickly found yourself fresh out of time to finish your train of thought.

Your eyes soon left the newsprint to meet with those of Leni, your beloved daughter and light of your life, as she rather dangerously turned the corner at full speed. Even though you were sitting down, the sudden gust of air was more than enough to make you brace for impact nonetheless.

"Good morning, Leni," you greeted her, picking up the hastily dropped newspaper and fanning it back out. "Did you sleep well last night, dear?"

"Dad, like, something's horribly wrong today!" she answered, already so busy at work rummaging through all of the kitchen cabinets to even notice the smoothies you had so lovingly prepared.

"Really? What happened? Did the roof spring another leak again?" To be fair, it hadn't happened too long ago, so the possibility was very much there to have had the disaster unexpectedly reoccur due to either poor handiwork or cheap labor— or both, even! You just can't find any good, honest, and reliable repairmen in this day and age, now can you?

"What, no! Even worse!" she shook her head, with a worrying pause. The roof didn't actually give in completely this time, did it? Did the real estate agents con you THIS hard?

"What happened, then?" you humored her, setting the paper down: clearly, much more pressing matters were at hand. Giving her a once-over, it must have been extra important, as she hadn't even gotten the chance to brush her hair yet, the poor soul!

"I lost my sunglasses!" she pouted, directing your attention to the oddly vacant spot atop her head with a pointed finger as the true weight of the situation began to set in— for her, mostly, but you sure didn't want her to tear the entire house into pieces trying to find them on her own, though!

"Oh my, that's terrible, Leni!" you faked a gasp and tried your best to match her level of concern, now having to actually shift gears this early in the morning to assist her. "Well, do you remember where you left them when you took them off last night?"

"Um, no, but I did have them on like, all day yesterday!" she frantically answered, now shuffling everything about beneath the sink. Darn it, that stuff is going to need to be reorganized again, but that's beside the point! Where could she have possibly misplaced them this time? Usually she just forgets they're on her head, but now they're actually gone again!

"Alright, alright, calm down!" She stopped ransacking the place at your beck and call, if only for the time being. "I guess we'll just have to look together to find them, then."

"Really? Like, thank you so much!" She seemed to actually calm for a moment, only for it to prove itself deceitful. "But, like, I really need them, and what if they're somewhere they can get broken and—"

"I know that, but we can go find them after we have these, alright?" You gestured to the twin drinks, much to her delight. "They'll be fine: they can't break by themselves, you know."

"Whoa! When'd you make those?" she gasped, rushing over and snatching up her glass, eyeing it suspiciously before giving it a sip. "Like, what flavor is it?"

"Ah, Raspberry-Banana Deluxe, with a little something extra, just for you!" you gladly explained, with a smile. "I got up early, so I figured I'd do the honors to save you some time. Also, I think you more than deserve a break from all those veggie mixes, don't you?"

"Well, they're not that bad, as long as there isn't too much cinnamon, or ginger." She shrugged her shoulders, before her eyes widened as the sudden rush of flavor hit her like a freight train. "Oh my gosh! Did you like, put something super creamy in here? It's super sweet!"

"Of course. Just one scoop of yogurt, though, don't worry." You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, having more than paid off for your efforts. Speaking of which, it's high time you've taken to the fruits of your own labor as well. "For a moment, though, I was just about to add in some ice cream instead, but I didn't want to kill you with sugar."

"Ice cream? You wouldn't!" she gasped, eyeing the mixture and cautiously stirring it with a straw to validate your claim for certain. "Like, how many calories does this have, anyway?"

"How would I know? As much as raspberries, a banana, almond milk, and a scoop of regular old dairy-free yogurt would have?" you shrugged right back, taking a moment to really Savor The Flavor™. "Besides, the nutritional information can be off by up to a hundred calories either way, and I didn't go overboard on any of it, so don't worry about it too much."

The glass quivered and trembled in her hand as she came to that terrible revelation once again, the sufferings of days, weeks, and months long past racing before her very eyes at the very thought. You didn't break her again, did you? The poor soul, she seemed to be doing the complete opposite of what you had suggested!

"Are you alright, Leni?" you asked her, continuing to sip the sweet smoothie in question. "Sorry if I just ruined it for you, I probably shouldn't have said that."

"N-No, it's... okay," she stuttered, staring down into the drink's colorful abyss for a moment of contemplation before eventually resuming its consumption. "Yeah, like, I almost forgot about that, thanks..."

Well, that was one way to start the day. So much for trying to cheer her up a bit after such a tragedy. Sometimes, it's just best to say nothing at all for the time being, isn't it? Sheesh, it's like you can't go ten minutes without dropping a red-pill and ruining the fun in something these days.

"It's okay though! This is still, like, totally delicious!" She seemed to have noticed your fit of self-loathing, perking herself up in place of your current inability to do so as she happily gulped it down. "I'll just have to cut back a bit later!"

"Oh, come on, it's the weekend! You don't always have to be on top of everything you eat twenty-four seven; it won't kill you to break for just a little bit." To be fair, though, you haven't the slightest idea how the Caloric gods function, nor how they have their underlings do their bidding. Every religion has got to have a Sunday or Saturday off for relaxation though, right? Isn't that how it works?

"Oh? It is? Alright then!" There's that wonderful smile you were looking for. Ow, your heart. "Okay, Mr. Sweet Calorie Surprise Smoothie, you're totes going down!"

Hm, that could be its new name, maybe. Nah, it's a little too nonsensical. Okay, only if she wants it to be— it IS pretty darn sweet, though, that's for sure.

The next two minutes passed in utter silence, a time much better spent getting to know and appreciate the interesting mixture of your creation as a proper duo. Unfortunately, the enjoyment would soon come to an inevitable end as you both reached the very bottom of your glasses, a woeful slurping noise signaling the end of events.

"Good, wasn't it?" you jump-started a conversation, now seeking something else to replace the void that had since formed. "I told you it wouldn't kill you."

"Yeah, but now it's gone!" she solemnly nodded her head, lowering it in respect for the slain beverage. It had left her so soon! "Goodbye, Mr. Sweet Calorie Surprise, I'll miss you, and your super-duper sweetness..."

"Better to have tasted and lost than to have never tasted at all, right?" you tried to comfort her in her time of need. What in blazes did you even mean by this?

"I guess so," she nodded again, turning her back to you and quickly glancing back over her shoulder before raising the glass to her face. Well, maybe it was TOO good to let go, huh?

"Come on now, that's not very ladylike, sweetie," you reminded her out of principle, despite the need to have a chuckle. Cute.

"Sorry, it's just really good!" she huffed, displaying a genuine walk of shame towards the kitchen sink. The water turned on, and you momentarily glanced away, only to find her hand lifted right back up again.

Well, it was worth a shot, at least. You couldn't really blame her, to be fair.

Before the water bill could skyrocket by the pennies, however, she eventually finished "washing" the glass and actually did so, and you soon got up to do the same, depositing it in the dishwasher shortly after. Peering over at her, her eyes shifted about, and she had this ridiculously guilty look on her face as she twiddled her thumbs.

She really thought that was clever, didn't she? Oh well.

"Alright, that was refreshing," you spoke aloud with a yawn, in proper Dad fashion. "Now, how about we go find those pesky sunglasses of yours, wherever they're hiding?"

"Huh? Oh, right! I like, totes forgot about that!" she gasped, and before you knew it, the cabinets beneath the sink were open again. "Where could they be?!"

"Well, I highly doubt they'd be down there, unless you have something important to tell me." You knelt down beside her to provide a second pair of eyes, and maybe hands in case she went for the plumbing.

"Well, uhm..." she trailed off, standing back up and lightly tapping her fingertips together. "I kinda..."

"You kinda what?" Please, she didn't do something ridiculous like spilling a bunch of white vinegar and thought replacing it with water would work just fine again, right? You're not going through that unwelcome surprise again. Or, god forbid, did she find the one and only bottle of vodka you had in the farthest corner back there? Did she spill that, too?!

"Nothing! Nevermind!" she rather enthusiastically shook her head, before moving on to the next cabinet.

Are we doing this now? Fine, you'll play that game.

"Are you sure? It sure seemed like you had something pretty important to tell me," you coaxed her, while checking the cabinets on the opposite side of the sink. Might as well cut the search time in half while you're at it.

"Well, uhm, when I..." she trailed off again, as she turned all the cups right-side up only to flip them all back down again. No dice.

"When you what? Is there something you don't want to tell me, Leni?" Hey, neat, so that's where your favorite coffee mug went. What was it doing in here with the Tupperware?

"What? No! ...Okay, like, maybe not?" She's not good at this at all, is she? Well, not for as long as you've known her for, anyway.

"Alright, looks like that's it for the kitchen," you changed the subject for the time being. Now, where else could she have left a pair of fancy sunglasses? "Where to, now?"

"Maybe they're in the living room?" she shrugged, checking inside the dishwasher for some reason. Well, it's highly unlikely to be in there, but it's worth the effort just in case.

But that wasn't why, now was it?

"Sounds good to me. Let's do this—" you began to lead the way out the kitchen, only to pause in the archway.

"WAIT!" she shouted, nearly making you jump. What got under her skin?

"What? Is there something scary in there?" She's overreacted like this before. It was probably just a tiny spider, no big deal.

"No, uhm..." she stammered, before lowering her head and mumbling something beneath her breath. "I'm sorry..."

"Sorry for what, Leni?" You tried to take another step, but in an instant, she had rushed up and latched onto your arm.

"I just... I'm just... I'm sorry!" she frantically apologized, her voice cracking at that last part as she tightly squeezed your arm. Please, that vodka wasn't the cheap trash, but it sure wasn't worth all this! She's nearing the brink of tears somehow!

"What? It's alright, dear! What did you do?" What the heck did she think you were going to do to her?! You're not some drunken monster— you try really hard NOT to be that!

"I... I...!" Here it comes, that poor vintage bottle of poison. The most you ever did was lecture her, really.

"Out with it, Leni," came after a strange pause. Seriously, what did this poor girl think you'd do to her? This isn't a prisoner-of-war camp. "Come on, you did what?"

"I licked the cup again because that smoothie was like, so tasty and I just couldn't help myself, even though it was totes unladylike!" she blurted out, her eyes somehow actually brimming with tears. "I'm sorry!"

Wait, did you just hear that right? Was that really it? She's really not good at this at ALL.

"It's alright, I forgive you!" you calmed her, for better or for worse. You weren't even being that serious about it! "Honestly, I wanted to do it, too!"

"Really? Then, like, why can't I do it...?" She released you somewhat, before the circulation could completely leave your arm.

"Who said you couldn't? It's just not proper etiquette."

"Proper who-spaghetti?"

What.

"It's like wearing white after Labor Day, but you can do it if you really want to, I guess. Only if no company's over, though, okay?"

"Hm, alright!" she nodded, only to break eye contact. "Sorry for lying to you... Honest!

"Don't worry, it's fine. I couldn't help myself either." Sheesh, is it that time of the month again or something? Not like you'd even bother to mark a calendar or anything. Would that be considered a strange thing to ask about? "Let's go find those shades, alright?"

"Oh, sure! Let's go!" And with that, she dashed right past you and through the archway and into the living room, but not before flipping between each and every page of your newspaper. Before you could even think about how you were going to find where you had left off, the couch cushions were soon airborne, one just narrowly missing you as she chucked them aside without even a hint of caution.

"Any luck?" you asked, after ensuring your head was still atop your shoulders. "Careful now, if they were between the cushions, you would have just thrown them into a wall, or me."

"Oh, sorry, I just don't know where it is, and what if someone sits on it?!" Incoming decorative pillow, look out!

"Hey, that goes for pillows, too!" you shouted out, while ducking for cover. Jesus, she sure had a good throwing arm for someone that wasn't very athletic at all!

"Huh? Whoops, sorry again!" she paused, her hands planted against the underside the coffee table and more than ready to flip it over. "Maybe it's like, under here!"

"Here's a great idea, let's try not breaking anything, including your shades, alright?" God forbid, you've taken a liking to that little table, but not so much for the lamp resting atop it. That finicky thing could shatter into millions of pieces for all you care.

Checking under the couch, nothing of interest was found, save for a lost quarter which you quickly snatched up. As you went to stand up and announce that nothing had been found, however, she had locked eyes with you, and then focused on your closed fist. She must have caught a glimpse of it glistening in the light, didn't she? With a sigh, you gave in to those pleading eyes, and flipped it towards her. The "rainy day jar" could always wait another day, even though that's explicitly what it's for.

"Ooh! Thanks, Dad! Just like, a hundred more of these and I can get a totally sweet new purse!" she thanked you, before going over to peek behind the television set. Well, at least she was grateful, unlike some kids. It wasn't very likely there'd be that many more coins scattered around here, however.

"Alright, don't think it's in here. Are you sure you don't remember where you left them?" you tried to jog her memory, pondering just where else they could be as well. Where could she have even gone and lost them in the span of one night that isn't her room? "Are you sure you checked everywhere up there?"

"Of course I did, I searched everywhere!" she nodded her head, puffing out her chest with pride. Before you could ask any more questions, however, she had dashed right past you and back up the stairs, leaving you woefully far behind to give chase. "I know! Maybe they're in my room!"

Perhaps she wasn't THAT thorough in her search after all.

Finally reaching her room, you just had to hold your tongue. Every single bit and component of furniture had been taken apart piece by piece, but strangely enough, everything was nicely placed beside their parts in tidy little groups— she even folded up her sheets! Oh, so that's how it is: she's only super careful with it when it's hers, huh? Well, credit where it's due, at least; after all, nothing in here had come cheap, compared to that outlet junk sitting downstairs.

"See? They weren't under my dresser, or in my dresser, or on top of my dresser, or under this shoe!" she explained, holding up the shoe in question as she pointed to it.

"I see, good job, dear!" you congratulated her on a job very well done. Applause where it's due, this sure wasn't some simple task, especially for her. That's not to be rude, of course, but rather more, "realistic"? "Alright, guess we won't have to check here again, right?"

"Thank you! I even tried to move the dresser and put it back, but it was like, way too heavy!" Well, at least she had tried, though, that does explain what that straining noise was coming from up here. For a moment there, you thought you'd almost have to have a long talk with her about something extremely personal and utterly uncomfortable for both parties involved.

After a quick secondary search of the room which yielded nothing more, the investigation moved into a rather brief search of the bathroom, only for the mystery sunglasses to not be hidden there either. At the very least, the "lady products" of hers were left untouched, scratching something off the list in the back of your mind.

The search then moved into the design room across from her bedroom, a previously empty room now filled to the brim with mannequins, hanging dresses and sketches, and various rolls of fabrics. Being extremely careful to not disrupt or displace a single thread of fabric and yarn strewn around the work-space lest you completely ruin her unique sense of organization, you both searched through the mess of creativity, only to once again come up short.

Well, that wasn't exactly true, either: somehow, one of your spare suits had ended up in here, a red heart made of nylon having been stitched onto the right lapel along with her signature sitting below it. Had she not been standing there watching with a huge grin on her face, your own cardiac organ would have surely given out on you.

"Do you like it?" she finally asked, going over and lightly dusting it off. "That was like, going to be your Father's Day present, but I wasn't sure if you'd like it, so I just got you the coffee mug instead..."

"It's wonderful, Leni," you nodded, lightly patting her head. Oh, beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure. "I'll have to show that off to the guys at work."

"Really? Thank you!" She suddenly wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tight, and the gesture was returned right back. What else has she been worrying herself to death about lately? Is there a brand-new car waiting outside in the driveway, too? Did an aspiring entrepreneur stumble across her designs and offered her top dollar to sponsor her, and she's not sure whether or not you'd be okay with that as well?

After a brief recovery from the heartfelt moment, the search resumed, moving through the hall and eventually out the door, but not before checking your own room just in case, given she did somehow get her hands on that suit. Fortunately, they weren't in there either, and you soon moved outside the house itself after her insistence. How in the world would she have lost her sunglasses out here of all places?

The crawlspace under the porch was empty, thank god, as the last thing either of you wanted to discover down there was a large colony of spiders. Fortunately enough, there was only a bunch of empty, long-abandoned cobwebs, and some streamers and confetti from that one celebration a long time ago, or whatever it was that came from.

"Any luck?" you asked as you surveyed the lawn, even though you knew the answer already.

"Nope, not down here, but I could like, totally turn these streamers into a sash!" She pulled them out and shook them clean, before happily twirling around with them. Perhaps she'd ought to properly wash them off first before becoming so resourceful, though.

Moving to the garage, the search was going on strong, up until you opened the door. In an instant, you were greeted by the horrid sight of a desiccated skeleton looking you right in the eye, only to fall limp to the floor as you both jumped back in shock. Something soon seemed off about the rather pristine corpse, however, for upon further inspection, it was wearing a pirate hat with a price tag still attached.

"Oh! That's where Skelly went!" she pointed it out after calming down, giggling to herself. "We'll need to set him back up for Halloween, soon!"

"Thank goodness, we really need to find somewhere not so scary to put him away next time," you just had to crack a grin and shake your head at the rather humorous discovery. Every day is just full of surprises around here, isn't it? It's much better than nothing, though, for sure.

Still coming up empty-handed and defeated, you both trudged back into the house. They weren't in her room, the kitchen, the living room, her design room, the bathroom, or even your room, so where else could they even be? You could swear you saw her wearing them yesterday night as well, so where in the world could she have possibly lost them?

"Darn it, now my ensemble is like, totally ruined!" she pouted, looking at her reflection in the television's screen and solemnly brushing the space atop her head where her lovely sunglasses used to reside. "What am I going to do now? Dad, can you take me to the mall, please?"

You can already hear your wallet screeching in agony from your room all the way over here. You had even insisted she buy two cheaper sets rather than one expensive one just in case something like this ever happened!

"Alright, sure, but how about we eat lunch first?" Of course, either you'd have to give, or her feelings would instead, or even worse.

"Okay! I'll get the salad stuff!" she nodded, rushing over to the refrigerator.

Figuring that another smoothie would calm her nerves for the time being, you patiently waited for her to finish gathering up ingredients before going over to the freezer. Peering inside, there was the usual arrangement of frozen fruits and other goods, along with a carton of ice cream, and— oh, what's this? To your surprise, and great relief to your poor wallet, the elusive pair of sunglasses you had been searching for all day rested upon the top rack, right beside the carton.

"Oh, what are the odds..." you shook your head. Of course they'd be here: looks like someone had decided to have a midnight snack. And to think, if you had chosen a different flavor than the fresh raspberries and bananas, or had actually opted for the ice cream, you both wouldn't have gone through this mess today.

Well, maybe it was for the best, for sure.

"Huh? What is it?" she sauntered over to satisfy her curiosity, only to gasp as she spotted the fated shades. "OH MY GOSH, MY GLASSES!"

"Couldn't resist the dairy, huh?" you teased her, for having inevitably fallen victim to both of your guilty pleasures.

"What? It's like, really tasty!" she huffed, grabbing her shades and returning them to their rightful place atop her head, only to shiver and rapidly shake her head as she shrieked, "Eek! Cold, cold, cold...!"

All in a day's work, wasn't it? So, why did you still feel like you were forgetting something?

Ignoring the feeling for the time being, you both went about preparing lunch, mixing up a fruit and vegetable mix with a generous amount of ice cream, much to her joy as she cobbled together salads for the both of you to feast upon. You still kind of missed the juicy and partially salty taste of meat, though, but if this is what makes her happy, then so be it. Besides, you can't help but feel guilt now after that one documentary; it still keeps you up at night, sometimes.

Taking the meals to the living room and setting it all down on the coffee table, you both plopped down on the sofa side-by-side and turned on the television, tuning in just in time to catch up on reruns of The Dream Boat before the new episode would air this very evening.

"Oh, I forgot! Thanks for helping me find my sunglasses!" she thanked you with a near-fatal smile, as she took a sip of her smoothie. "I thought I'd never find them, but, you're like, some kind of super hero genius!"

"Genius? We searched the whole house, only for them to be in there the whole time!" Hey, at least you were honest, though you have definitely more than earned that "#1 Dad" mug twice over, if not more.

"Well, yeah, but, thank you anyway," she shrugged, only to divert her attention to the television screen. "Ooh, commercial's over!"

"You're very welcome, then," you smiled back at her, before noticing the same thing as well.

"Sorry, I was going to bring you roses, but I'm allergic to them," the newest crew mate, Bradley, began, as he sat down at the table with Karen, the Captivating Captain, "and also chocolates, so uh, I thought you wouldn't mind nightshade instead. Careful, it's poisonous, so don't try to eat it! I like to think it reminds us all of just how beautiful the world is, no matter how deadly everything is, or could be."

"Oh, that's nice, I guess?" Karen would definitely have given him a face full of mace at this point if they weren't on TV. "So, what things are you into, Bradley?"

"Well, I like to hang out in the park on sunny days, but only during fall and winter because I have really bad allergies, but I do like to go to the library, and uh, the internet café! So yeah, I really like to study botany and stuff, even though I have to take a bunch of anti-allergy medicine, and a little bit on animals, too. Mostly fish, though."

As the rather uncomfortable conversation drawled on, however, the words just began to slur off in your head for some strange reason. It was almost as if you had downed that entire bottle of vodka, except you've been drier than a desert for the past month! Or, was it just a few weeks ago?

Now that you think about it, when did you even stop drinking, and why?

The images on the screen began to distort and warp about as you pondered over it, the sound now greatly reduced to a mere mumbling. Something felt wrong, and now you were beginning to feel a bit sick, too, but in a really, "different", way. What the hell was happening?

Bringing your hand up into view, you stared at your palm. Is there a gas leak? Is Leni okay?

"Dad?" she suddenly called out to you, and you looked over at her. "Are you alright?"

"I think so, yeah," you tried your best to keep her from panicking, however your voice slurred just a bit towards the end.

Glancing back down at your hand, something really odd caught your eye: the creases on your hands had changed around. Okay, now you must really be tripping off of something. Had some of the smoothie ingredients gone bad in the freezer? To be fair, you had no idea how long all that would last in there.

Now that you just bothered to think about it, though, how long HAVE they been in there? Furthermore, when did you even buy them, and from where? Which market, or which grocery store? How'd you get there?

"Something's not right."

"Huh?" Oh, did you say that out loud? Whoops. "Are you sure you're okay? You look kind of tired, like you didn't sleep at all last night!"

She was right: did you even sleep last night? When did you even wake up? You were reading the paper, but where did that come from?

Standing up, a sharp pain shot through your head, but that didn't stop you as you stumbled your way out the room and into the kitchen.
You're just freaking out for no good reason, you've ought to just get out of there and clear your head.

Approaching the newspaper in question, you just couldn't help but notice that the table's wood had taken on a completely different pattern! Reaching out to pick it up, only more could go wrong, for now it seemed as if you just couldn't lift it up at all, even with your nails dragging against the tabletop! Your fingers just glided over it, almost as if the newsprint had somehow managed to merge into the very table itself! Trying to read the text, you just couldn't make it out, as the letters quickly degraded from indecipherable gibberish to odd symbols, and then to nothing more than blurry black blobs before your very eyes!

"Dad, should I like, call for help or something?" you picked up her voice, as she caught up to you. "You're really starting to scare me, like a lot!"

Looking back, you locked eyes with the clearly worried ones of your daughter as she clung to your arm, but you just couldn't feel it anymore for some reason. Now that you thought about it, you couldn't feel much of anything at all at this point. You tried to figure out how to explain your current predicament to her, only for more pressing thoughts and questions to drown out your current train of thought.

Where do you live? What's your street address? Who are your neighbors? When did you even buy a house this size? How much did it cost?

How long has she been your daughter?

That last question struck you as extra odd, perhaps because that was one of the few that you seemed to actually know. The answer, of course, was as long as you knew her for. It's been so long now that you just can't seem to remember.

Then who was her mother?

Okay, that one you never knew, because she was adopted, right? Wait, or was she?

When did you adopt her, and how, then?

That one's easy, that was like, several years back or so, right?

Is any of this even real?

And just like that, you noticed the illusion, and everything came tumbling down.

"Dad? Where did you go? Come back!" Leni called out to you in desperation and full-fledged panic, as your surroundings seemed to slowly warp and dissipate into a black void around you.

"Leni!" you tried to call out to her, but the words just didn't seem to come out. Did you even have a mouth still? Now that you thought of it, why can't you move anything at all? Do you even have a body still? Why is this happening?!

Very soon, you found yourself beginning to suffocate through god knows what means and conjured up the power to take a panicked breath, and the world immediately faded to black, the last thing you see being the look of utter anguish on Leni's face.

"Leni..." you heard yourself groan, as your eyes slowly opened and your vision flickered to life. Refocusing on the world around you, you found your head rested down on that same table you had seen, and your gaze met with a large empty bottle of what had to have been the vodka under the sink.

Sitting up after a brief moment, you found yourself in your kitchen, the newspaper now missing from atop the table as you took in everything around you.

"Leni?" you called out to her, reaching up and rubbing your head. It hurt like hell, for reasons that were pretty obvious. Unfortunately, you didn't seem to get a response, only silence. You called out again just to make sure you could even hear your own voice.

Still nothing, just an eerie silence.

Your head soon cleared up enough to think properly again, and the horrible realization quickly set in.

It was just an alcohol-fueled dream.

"FUCK!" Your fist slammed down on the table as you shouted it out, without even having thought about it. Of course that wasn't real, you idiot, how could you ever have nice shit? And why the fuck would you even read a newspaper? It's the twenty-first goddamned century.

You soon stood up, the unexpectedly jump-started blood circulation forcing you to wait a moment before moving, albeit with a bit of a stumble. Checking the freezer, there sure as hell weren't any frozen fruits in there, because you don't even own a blender.

The drunken rage only continued to build up inside you as you pulled out a small bottle of booze and shut the door, hugging the wall and stumbling your way into your room, the flow of thoughts still going on strong as you tried your best to keep the dream fresh in your mind.

It wasn't fair, but who gave a shit?

Falling into your computer chair, you riled up the resting metallic beast from its slumber, the monitor practically waterboarding your still sensitive eyes with bright light as you were greeted with your browser's previous session. Cycling through all the other tabs full of bullshit, you eventually found the ones with that wonderful little four-leaf clover icon and sorted through them, eventually finding your quarry.

Scrolling through and clicking to the newest thread of that accursed general filled to the brim with autism and faggotry for a children's TV show, you popped off the cap on your bottle of poison as you clicked the "Post a Reply" button.

Just wait until they fucking hear this.

Taking a good few chugs of that infernal, yet calming liver-killer, a wave of sadness soon washed over you in place of blind anger as you selected an appropriate image from your drive and began to type those accursed words into the text box.

">Leni will never be your daughter"