Let's try this again

I was sitting in my living room chair-bed, watching Ed, Edd, and Eddy in an open bathrobe, when it happened.

"Dad, we've got a problem." Clara slithers on in while wearing one of those green eye shades.

I grab a can of bear and shake it, "You're damn right there's a problem! I'm out of beer! Could you get me another?"

My daughter narrows her eyes at me, "No. If we don't come up with a lot of money in very little time, we'll end up with no power, water, OR cable!"

"That last one affects you more than me." I jump out of my chair and land in front of her, "Just where did our money go, anyway?"

Clara pulls out a list from thin air and begins to read through it, "Let's see, you spent most of it on food, beer, that expensive dog collar you splurged on despite the fact we don't have a dog anymore, more beer, limited edition beer, every season of Breaking Bad on DVD, every season of House on dvd, and various things relating to Scooby Doo."

"I don't regret spending money on any of that."

"So what are you going to do?"

I cock an eyebrow, "Me? Why not "we"? You could get a job and help out instead of never leaving the house."

"This isn't about me, this is about you." Clara gives me a disappointed look while wagging her finger, "Bad Dad."

"Fine fine, but one of these days you'll leave the house, even if I have to drag you out!" I grumble out.
I cup my chin and look upwards while closing my eyes. Getting a large amount of money quickly? I guess I could sell something I don't need, like Clara's computor or the neighbor's lawnmower.

!!

My TV changes channels on its own! It turns to some sort of local announcement with a Holstaurus wearing a suit and tie that barely fits, "Tomorrow is the 25th anniversary of Gutter-Bowl, our local battle arena! It's a place where people brutally fight and rape each other for both money and fame!"

"Maybe I could pick up another drifter or eight?" I think out loud to myself, not paying any attention to what's happening on the TV.

"Sign up and enter the tournament before tomorrow at 5:30 PM, and you'll have a possibility to win the overly generous prize money for being this year's champion!" The Cowgirl announcer points her finger at the screen like a gun, and makes a firing gesture with it, "Here are directions showing how to get there!"
A map showing how to reach the arena from our neighborhood pops up on the screen.

"Maybe you could do that?" Clara point her clawed finger at the screen while nudging my back.

I scratch the side of my face, "Do what, sell hobo organs?"

"Fight at the Gutter-Bowl arena!"

My eyes open wide in shock and enlightenment, "We have an arena!?"

"Dad, please take this seriously." Clara crosses her arms and shakes her head back and forth.

"Why do you want me to fight other people? I can't fight at all!"

"What about that time when I was in grade school, and you won beat the tar out of my principal after she bad mouthed mom?"

I look away while rubbing the back of my neck, "Well..."

"And what about last month, when you got into a fight with a Minotaur, her daughter, AND her body building husband over them taking your favorite parking space at the local grocery store and won?"

"That wasn't very hard, all I had to do was strafe a lot. Their ability to turn is the same as the Hulk's ability to preform brain surgery in oven mitts."

"Anyway, you CAN fight, so you should sign up and win! It should be easy for you," Clara turns her eyes away, "so long as you don't do those flashy poses..."

I rip off my shirt, while keeping the bathrobe on, and strike a pose as I point at the demanding Dragon, "So you want me to enter some tournament, with a very likely chance of being maimed, killed, or violated, and win a large sum of money?"

"Yes."

"And just what would I get out of it?" I begin to slowly and sensually cycle through poses as sparkles, bubbles, and multicolored lights begin to float around the room.

Clara cracks a smile at me while holding her urge to giggle, "I could make you your favorite meal?"

"Lumpia does sound tantalizing," I quickly slide my way over towards her in overly exaggerated movements until I've invaded her personal space, and whisper gently into her ear, "But I want something else~"

Clara is now openly giggling, "And just what do you have in mind?"

I grab both of her hands, and kneel before her as I look into her eyes, "I want you to leave the house with me as I sign up, and for you to cheer me on in the audience."

"I don't know..." Clara mutters out while looking away.

I stand back up and glare at her, while pressing my face against hers in a menacing manner, "It's either that or you get a job."

"F-fine..." My daughter mutters out in a defeated voice.

"Good." I gracefully jump backwards, and perfectly land back on the chair in the same position I was in earlier. "So what's for dinner?" I nonchalantly ask Clara while flipping through the channels on the TV at a ludicrous speed.

Clara gives me a shrug before smiling, "How does spaghetti sound?"

I give a thumbs up, "Sounds good to me."

The red headed Ryu then slithers out of the room, leaving me alone. I ball up my fist and bang it against my forehead, before sighing audibly and screaming internally. Is getting enough money to pay bills, and getting my daughter out of the house for once, really worth the likely ass kicking I'll receive for entering that tournament?
I'd say it is, but it's still going to suck. I pull out a flask from within my bathrobe, and take a sippy in preparation for the dark times ahead.

"Don't be so down! Things'll work out!" Sarah, the homeless Harpy who happens to be one of my students, shouts out with enthusiasm in her voice as she presses her face against a window near me.

"Yeah!" Shannon, another student, gives me a thumbs up as she presses her face against the same window.

I put on the Discovery channel, and try to ignore those idiots dirtying my window.