Meet the Johnson's

Chapter One

With a grunt, Travis lifted the heavy trunk and slid it onto the high garage shelf. With a sigh of relief, he brushed the dirt and rust off of his hands and headed into the house, flipping the lights off as he went. Travis was a short, stringy man, but despite his tiny frame, he was incredibly strong. Having spent the majority of his adult life working on old pickup trucks had really given him a firm frame. 

Travis quickly washed his hands at the kitchen sink before going into the living room, where his family were all sprawled out before the television. Grunting softly, he swatted his oldest daughters leg, and plopped down the moment she took the hint and scooched over. With a laugh, Travis reached over and ruffled up her hair, speaking in the baby voice he knew she hated as he did so, “Ohhh, who’s daddy’s wittle baby?! Is it Wiwwy? Yes, it’s wittle wiwwy!”

“Dad!” the tall blonde groaned, pulling her long, beautiful locks away from her fathers reach. Lily was a tall, slender girl, with full hair and a very pretty bone structure. Her bright green eyes perfectly complimented her blonde hair and bright complexion. She definitely had the looks in the family. With a sudden lurch, she slapped her fathers hand as he continued to reach for her hair, “Dad! Stop, you big goof!!!”

Holding his wounded arm, her father rolled around his side of the couch, laughing hysterically. This was pretty much the day to day in their house. Travis, being a goof and annoying his kids, while the rest of the family watched on and laughed. In this instance, no one was laughing. Lily’s younger sister, Linda, a homely girl if ever there was one, stared daggers at their dad for being so loud while their mom, Julie, laid on the floor, watching television and cuddling with the youngest of the children, Cameron.

Being only twelve, Cameron wasn’t yet old enough to have decided that cuddling with his mommy was anything other than wonderful! Which was why he had no problem staying home on family night, unlike Braeden, the oldest, who spent as much time away from the family as he could possibly manage; which still wasn’t as bad as Linda, who seemed to consider consciousness to be the only excuse necessary to fall into the arms of whatever guy happened to be breathing too near her.

Yup, the Johnson’s were quite the family. An equal mixture of innocence and immorality; joy and hate. So, all in all, a typical American family.

Rolling her eyes, Lilly chuckled at her father’s boiling joy; unable to hold back the laughs as she watched him literally clutch his sides, laughing so hard that he fell right off of the couch. She didn’t get it. Normal dad’s did not act like that, but hey, it could be worse.

Kicking her dad’s the leg sharply, Linda whispered harshly, “Dude, shut up! We’re trying to watch TV!”

Sobering deliberately, Travis widened his eyes in pretend shock and threw both hands against his chest, dramatically faking a heart attack; but when no one seemed to care, he just sat up and squinted his eyes, turning from Linda to Lily, “Really? No one minds if I just drop dead?”

Both girls laughed loudly when their mom, not turning from the television, said sharply, “Not if it shuts you up.”

This time, the shock of Travis’ face was genuine. Unlike the kids, Julie was not one for humor. She was a timid and quiet woman, and when she spoke, she generally had something good to say. So her rare outbursts of comedic relief were unexpected, though usually quite welcome.

Travis just shook his head and pushed himself up off of the couch, whispering dramatically over his shoulder, “That’s ok, Babe. You can make that up to me later!”

As if to make his point clear, Travis shook his rump as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. He could still hear the girl’s mocking their mother as he knocked on his eldest son’s bedroom door. He was rewarded when he heard the gruff, “Waa?” through the door.

Turning the handle, Travis stepped into his son’s room. Braeden was laying on his bed with his feet propped up on the wall, hair hanging over the edge of the bed, his head in a small book.

“Ever heard of knocking?” the nineteen year old asked, throwing aside his book so he could sit up and pull on a shirt that lay sprawled on the chair next to his bed. His tanned shoulders disappeared beneath the black t-shirt, and a moment later, a large, bloody skull covered his chest.

Leaning against the doorframe, Travis laughed, “Once or twice. Not a fan though.”

Braeden cracked a smile, loving his dad’s humor in spite of himself, “Har har. So, what’s up, Dad? Need something?”

Feigning shock, Travis exclaimed, “Oh, I’m dad now? Not dude, or man, or broski?”

Rolling his eyes, Braeden threw himself back onto his bed, crossing his ankles and folding his arms behind his head, “Yup. what’s up, Dude?!” He said, emphasizing the word dude.

Travis just laughed. He loved goofing around with his kids, “Nothing much, brah!” sprawling over his son’s legs, he continued, “The girls tried to kill me off, so I thought I’d see what my hunk of man-flesh son was up to!”

“Dude!” Braeden said, kneeing his dad in the chest, “You're such a freak.”

“True. Anyway, what are you up to up here?”

“Nothing much,” Braeden answered, scratching his stomach obnoxiously, “I was reading, till some old fart came and rudely interrupted me!”

“Oh yeah?!” Travis said, playfully punching his son in the stomach. Puffing suddenly, Braeden launched at his dad, and the two guys roughed around for a minute. Travis won, as usual. Laughing at his son, he asked, “So, what were you reading?”

Picking up a small blue book, Braeden laughed, “I bought it because of the title, but it actually turned out to be a pretty good book! It’s called The Completely Untrue Autobiography of Joshua Klueg, Written by Somebody Else.”

Grabbing the book, Travis said, “Wow, that’s quite the mouthful.”

“Yup, but isn‘t it hilarious?!”

“No, not really. Sounds like a bad writer trying to do whatever it takes to sell his book, honestly.”

Braeden snatched his book and opened it back up, plopping back down to read. Travis waited a moment, incredulity written on his face as he waited for his son to realize that he was still there, but when he seemed to fail, he just stood and walked toward the door. Turning at the last second, he ran and jumped onto Braeden, knocking them both to the ground.

“Get off!” Braeden shouted, pushing his dad with all his strength; but Travis held on with all his strength, pressing his fingers into Braeden’s side, not tickling, but kneading, shouting, “This’ll teach you to ignore me, punk!”

Laughing despite himself, Braeden tucked his elbows in and started punching his dad’s side, turning their roll into a full on wrestle. After a minute, Travis twisted Braeden’s arm and then put him into a full head-lock, laughing as the boy struggled for freedom, “Say it!”

“Say what?” he choked out.

“Say, “I’m sorry for ignoring you for a dumb book, o’ mighty father of mine!”

“Never!” Braeden yelled, landing a good elbow to his dad’s ribs and knocking him off. Jumping to his feet, he launched at the door, laughing at the top of his lungs.

Travis just sat there on the floor, laughing and thinking about how glad he was that his dad had taught him to constantly show his kids how much he loved them. He knew that most nineteen year olds refused to even speak to their parents, but his kids were still wrestling with him and laughing at his corny jokes. Even though Braeden took every opportunity to get away from the family, he loved them. In Travis’ mind, that was a victory as a dad.

Travis got to his feet and started for the door, still laughing; but the laugh died in his throat when he heard the shrill scream of his eldest son.