Father's Second Childhood

Chapter 2
Father's Second Childhood

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Chapter Description: Four stern fathers...

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Walt, George, Jerry and Alvin gave their fathers an hour or so. Then they headed up to the pond in the woods behind Deacon Tumey’s house on the edge of town.

"I can’t BELIEVE this!" Jerry giggled. "Our dads, shrunk down to little kids! And going swimming! In their birthday suits!"

"Aw, they won’t do it," Alvin sniffed. "They’ll chicken out or something."

"Sssh! Listen!" Walt motioned for the others to be quiet. As they approached the pond, they could hear shrieks of glee, splashing, and boyish howls. They exchanged looks.

"It couldn’t be," Alvin insisted. "They’d never... I mean, they couldn’t..."

"Oh no?" Grinning from ear to ear, George pointed to the ’NO SWIMMING’ sign and Walt’s old clothes hanging on and piled up around it. Creeping closer, they hid behind the bushes and gazed at their child-sized fathers, pink, rosy-cheeked, and naked as jaybirds frolicking in the clear water of the pond like the ten year olds they appeared to be.

"Oh my... Oh my GOSH..."

Alvin goggled, mouth open in astonished amusement, at his father, the distinguished Judge Henderson, now a scrawny, freckle-faced red-head flashing the palest bare backside he’d ever seen as he leapt into the water.

"Hey!" Town Sheriff Blake, pudgy with baby fat, shouted. "Watch where you’re diving, Milton!"

"Aw, be quiet!" Church Deacon Tumey laughed, splashing Blake. "This is my second childhood and I’m enjoying it!"

The two of them got into a splash-battle as school principal Professor Horst circled, his cherubic little face beaming self-satisfaction as he did a lazy breast-stroke through the water. "I told you my young potion would work! It was only a matter of trial and error!"

"That you did, Paulie!" Sheriff Blake laughed as he slipped up and ducked him. "That you did!"

Professor Horst surfaced, sputtering, and shoved Sheriff Blake. Judge Henderson grabbed the sheriff around the waist from behind and the two of them double-teamed him, ducking him repeatedly. Deacon Tumey bobbed in the water nearby, trying to decide whether to side with the underdog or the winning team.

"Oh my GOSH!" Alvin repeated, careful to keep his voice down.

"Look at them!" George laughed. "They look like baby piglets!"

"Yeah," Walt stifled a giggle and motioned for the others to follow him. "Too bad we have to interrupt their little idyll."

Circling around the lake, they emerged at the edge of the clearing.

"HEY, YOU KIDS!" Walt shouted, trying to sound as harsh as possible. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

The four swimming boys froze, the commas of their rumps peeking out of the water. The look of shocked horror on their faces was priceless. Quickly, they submerged, trying to hide.

"Dear God," they heard Judge Henderson whisper. "What are THEY doing here?"

"Oh Lord," Deacon Tumey whimpered. "We’ll never live it down!"

"Don’t panic, don’t panic!" A panicky Professor Horst cautioned nervously. "They don’t know who we are! Anyway, perhaps they didn’t see us!"

"WE SEE YOU THERE!" Shouted Jerry, forcing himself not to smile.

"YOU BETTER GET YOUR LITTLE TAILS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!"

The boys looked at one another.

"What’ll we do?" Sheriff Blake whispered.

"NOW!"

"I... I guess we have no choice..."

Blushing furiously, the four regressed fathers emerged from the lake and stood, wet, naked, and mortified, before their scowling teenage sons.

Walt, Jerry, George, and Alvin stood, arms folded, glowering down at the little boys. It was a struggle to keep a straight face.

"Didn’t you see that sign?" Alvin demanded. "You’re trespassing! We oughta have you thrown in jail right now!"

"W-W-We were only swimming..." Sheriff Blake answered, looking up at his son, goosebumps running up and down his exposed flesh.

"Yeah, well, you’re in big trouble now!" George responded.

The boys stood nervously, praying noone else would come along.

"What do you think we oughta do with these little brats?" Walt asked the others.

"Well..." George considered. "They’ve got to be punished somehow..."

All the color rushed out of the boys’ faces, then returned when they realized what was going to happen. Exchanging looks, they made a break for it, trying to flee. Their sons grabbed them before they got more than three steps. In a trice, the four fathers found themselves upended and on the receiving end of a sound spanking.

"OW!"

"AW, C’MON!"

"HEY!"

"YOU CAN’T..."

"What’dya think, Walt?" Jerry asked, shouting a bit to be heard over the din. "Think they’ve learned their lesson?"

Walt pondered a moment. "Yeah, I guess so. Besides, my hand hurts."

The sons let their pint-size dads up. They stood there, faces trembling with helpless fury, rubbing their stinging bottoms.

"Sorry, boys," Alvin smirked. "But if our dads knew we’d let some kids get away with trespassing and swimming in the pond, we’d never hear the end of it. Now go get dressed."

Gratefully, the boys limped toward their clothing, only to be stopped by Walt.

"Hey, wait a minute!" He announced, feigning shock. "These are MY clothes!"

George looked over. "What?"

The four boys swallowed hard as their sons’ glare turned on them.

"What are you guys doing with Walt’s old clothes?"

Professor Horst’s mouth opened and closed. The others stared helplessly at him as he stammered and stuttered, trying to formulate a reasonable-sounding explanation.

Jerry stopped him short.

"They’re a bunch of little thieves is what!"

"Oh, really?" Walt grabbed two of the boys before they could run.

George grabbed the other two. "Not just trespassers but thieves! Why, we oughta march you right into town and lock you up in the town jail!"

"Yeah!" Alvin looked down at his now-terrified father, enjoying the difference in height. "Then when my dad gets back, he can figure out what to do with you!"

Sheriff Blake gulped. Judge Henderson was hyper-ventilating and Deacon Tumey was on the verge of tears. Locked up in the town jail, unable to escape, transforming back into their adult selves stark naked with everyone knowing...

"PLEASE DON’T!" Professor Horst fell to his knees, grabbing his son’s legs and sobbing. "PLEASE! WE’LL DO ANYTHING!"

After a moment, the other three boys followed suit. "YEAH, ANYTHING! JUST PLEASE DON’T THROW US IN JAIL!"

The sons exchanged triumphant smiles.

For the rest of the day, their pint-sized fathers found themselves laboring at the chores they’d assigned their sons earlier, bare and red-bottomed under the stern gaze of their sons, not to mention the gaze of giggling school-girls, jeering town-boys, and amused oldsters. They lugged the heavy statues around Deacon Tumey’s garden, arranging and re-arranging them until the sons were satisfied. They weeded the yard around Sheriff Blake’s dog kennels, working on their hands and knees, discovering that dogs tend to be quite curious and have VERY cold noses. They cleaned out Judge Henderson’s barn and painted Professor Horst’s garage, receiving painful smacks in already stinging areas if their pace slackened.

Finally, near dusk, they were escorted to the outskirts of town.

"All right, you little tramps, beat it!"

"Yeah! And don’t you ever let us catch you coming back!"

Exhausted and limping, the four boys ran as fast as they could down the road. Their sons watched them disappear in the distance.

"’A new dawn for mankind!’" Deacon Tumey growled at Professor Horst as he ran. "I’m gonna kill you for this!"

"I get to kill him first!" Sheriff Blake hissed. "I’ll never be able to look those boys in the eye again!"

"You’re gonna pay for this!" Judge Henderson sputtered. "You’re gonna... Hey, wait up!"

Hours later, long after he and his mother had turned in for the night, he heard a soft thud in the hallway. Slipping out of bed, he spied his father, scratched, dirty, and scared to death, sneaking in through the window he’d left half-open for him. Careful not to be seen, he watched the poor, bedraggled boy climb inside, frantic with fear, and head painfully on bruised feet down to the kitchen.

Walt had talked his mother into leaving a sandwich on the table for his dad "in case he came back early." He found him a few minutes later sound asleep from exhaustion sitting in his chair, the half-finished sandwich clutched in his hand. Gently, Walt carried him to the guest-room, dressed him in a night-shirt, and put him to bed. As the night wore on, he heard the little fellow’s wimpers and sighs deepen into his father’s familiar, robust snore.

The next morning, Walt pretended not to notice the pillows his father was sitting on as he devoured his breakfast.

"Hi, Dad! When’d you get home?"

His father looked up nervously, then looked over at his wife and cleared his throat. "Late. Got in late. Any... Anything happen while I was gone?"

"Not really," Walt selected a banana and sliced it into his cereal. "Me and the guys caught some little kids swimming in Deacon Tumey’s pond. They’d gotten hold of some of my old clothes, too."

"Probably tramps," Mrs. Horst sniffed. "Runaways. Or worse."

"Yeah," Walt nodded. "We were gonna let ’em alone, but I remembered what you’d said about not encouraging people like that, so we gave ’em the works! They won’t be coming back here again!"

"Indeed." Professor Horst coughed, trying to conceal his blush as he rose from the table. "I’ll... I’ll be in my lab for a few hours."

"Oh," Walt smiled. "You working on anything special?"

"No! No," Professor Horst limped out the door. "Just have to burn some notes..."

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