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mash_slashA little drabble that has been floating around my head for days, so instead of my economics’ assessment I wrote this. Ahh, procrastination it’s a wonderful thing.
I’ll leave you to guess who ‘he’ is.
Title: Dress up
Author: Niroby
Rating: k
Pairing: Frank/ ?
Disclaimer: Not mine, poot.
Author’s Notes: I don’t know the name or age of any of Frank’s children, or his serial number, so I made it up, so sue me. I am however fairly sure that he has B neg blood, and that he got discharged as a Lieutenant Colonel. Feel free to point out my mistakes I will happily change them.
Running up to sit on her daddy’s knee, Carly, or Princess as her daddy called her, reminded Dr Frank Burn’s of a Korean bride. The colours of her outfit more than the style, he wouldn’t allow his daughter to dress up as a pagan (Twenty years later he grudgingly escorted her down the aisle in a Buddhist marriage ceremony). Her chunky red shoes kicked him in the shins as she took a flying leap and cannonballed into her daddy’s arms. Looking up she put on the smile she reserved for her daddy, toying with the buttons on his shirt she asked
“Daddy, can I wear your necklace, mummy wont let me wear hers?”
Frank took his dog tags off around his neck. Carly wasn’t allowed any where near mummy’s jewellery box after the incident with the pearls; he still couldn’t look Mrs Wilson in the face. He lovingly placed them around her neck; Carly kissed his cheek, smearing it with fuchsia lipstick as she did so. She jumped off his lap and ran out of the room only to return a few moments later.
“Daddy, why do you have another person’s necklace?” It was true; the dog tags did not proudly show the world that he was once a Lieutenant Colonel of the U.S army, serial number 09897, blood type B neg. He scowled, then his expression turned to one of dreamy remembrance.
“He wouldn’t give mine back.”
End.
I’ll leave you to guess who ‘he’ is.
Title: Dress up
Author: Niroby
Rating: k
Pairing: Frank/ ?
Disclaimer: Not mine, poot.
Author’s Notes: I don’t know the name or age of any of Frank’s children, or his serial number, so I made it up, so sue me. I am however fairly sure that he has B neg blood, and that he got discharged as a Lieutenant Colonel. Feel free to point out my mistakes I will happily change them.
Running up to sit on her daddy’s knee, Carly, or Princess as her daddy called her, reminded Dr Frank Burn’s of a Korean bride. The colours of her outfit more than the style, he wouldn’t allow his daughter to dress up as a pagan (Twenty years later he grudgingly escorted her down the aisle in a Buddhist marriage ceremony). Her chunky red shoes kicked him in the shins as she took a flying leap and cannonballed into her daddy’s arms. Looking up she put on the smile she reserved for her daddy, toying with the buttons on his shirt she asked
“Daddy, can I wear your necklace, mummy wont let me wear hers?”
Frank took his dog tags off around his neck. Carly wasn’t allowed any where near mummy’s jewellery box after the incident with the pearls; he still couldn’t look Mrs Wilson in the face. He lovingly placed them around her neck; Carly kissed his cheek, smearing it with fuchsia lipstick as she did so. She jumped off his lap and ran out of the room only to return a few moments later.
“Daddy, why do you have another person’s necklace?” It was true; the dog tags did not proudly show the world that he was once a Lieutenant Colonel of the U.S army, serial number 09897, blood type B neg. He scowled, then his expression turned to one of dreamy remembrance.
“He wouldn’t give mine back.”
End.
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