On The Road Again (HH Season 6 Premiere!)
#2 of Hockey Hunk Season 6
The Hockey Hunk returns for its sixth season! Woot is in the air!
Hello, muffins!
With great pleasure, I present to you the first chapter of the very exciting Season 6 of The Hockey Hunk, my ongoing furry soap opera drama. This has been a long time in the making, and I think that now that we're into the amazing fourth year of the story, I think it speaks a lot that I can pull off something like this, I think, and do I have many more things to come for you as well...oh yes...this story is not over yet by any means, and I have a lot to say with it...many more things to explore with the cast, and many, many ideas. I hope to see all of you tag along, because things are going to get very interesting indeed, and it is thanks to your support that I've felt compelled and eager to write on and to keep going. Thank you, for supporting me, I hope you enjoy this new season as much as I will, and of course, I shall look forward to hearing what you think about it. It really means a lot to me. *smiles*
Without further ado, I am now officially declaring season six to be fully operational, and on the move!
Cheers to y'all! Have a fun read!
*
Hal's truck is great! It's a station wagon, alright, but as far as these go, this is a very comfortable one. The seats were cosy and adjustable in all sorts of directions, there was air conditioning, great considering the weather, the gearbox was automatic, there was cruise control...and the GPS system sitting on the dash was counting the inevitable miles that were still left to cover until we would be...there.
At least the car made it a bit more comfortable a ride, physically so.
The rest...
"Well..." I took a deep breath and made a big show yawning and rolling my shoulders a bit, which was relaxing and nice, indeed I can concur, even if the seat was wonderful, things were starting to get numb, before I glanced over at the slumped shorts-wearing boy sitting next to me, "we just went past Buffalo, Paul."
His ears made some flicks but the reaction was mild, to say the least, even without any particular electronic distractions in sight, such as earphones, smartphones, MP3 players, tablets or laptops. I had supervised the packing of each before, so perhaps I was indeed lucky to have him just for myself, for now.
"It's not a bad place, Buffalo," I said, "maybe not that much to see there but we're not here to sightsee, are we? Heheh!"
He let out a snuffle and I decided that maybe we'd run out of jokes after a few hours on the road. Certainly I had used everything that I'd read on the AAO newsletters or heard at the break room back at work. At least all the jokes that were suitable for boys...though I suppose I should start to learn to think about that in a different way. Paul was turning 19 soon, after all. That was no longer a boy...at least not in a certain sense of the world. He was taller than me, too!
Well, at least my tail and butt weren't getting numb yet. That'd been highly unfortunate, considering how many miles we still had to go.
"Is there any soda left by any chance?" I asked, deciding that could be a good trail of thought to follow. Air conditioning or not, or perhaps that contributed it to it because it was practically breezy in there, I had a parched tongue.
"There's some Mountain Dew but I'm not sure it's very cold anymore," he replied without even looking at the bag that was stashed somewhere by his footpaws.
"We could always stop somewhere for something cold," I offered cheerfully. "Or we could get a bite to eat, too! We're bound to drive past some kind of a burger joint or something soon, I bet!"
"I'm not really hungry," he replied.
"Are you suuuure?" I gave him a quick wink. "I'm pretty certain I heard a tummy rumble before..."
"Huh," he grunted, sounding a bit irritated, perhaps, "I'm fine, just not hungry."
Well it smacked me right in the whiskers.
I chortled.
"Three hours on the road and you say it now?" I complained. "Paul - "
"What?" the slumbering tiger reared verbally.
"Why didn't you tell me you're car sick?" I exclaimed.
He blinked.
"Because I'm not?"
"But - "
"Dad, I haven't been car sick since I was 12," he explained, "I just...no burgers in the car, please, dad? I don't want to risk it anyway."
"Oh...of course," I felt my previously cheerful, then surprised ears droop a little. "If you would still like to stop anywhere to stretch your legs a bit though...maybe catch a bit of fresh air..."
"If it gets any more fresh in here I'll need a sweater," he brushed a paw over the breast of his T-shirt that was advertising some band that kids nowadays liked listening to way too loud.
"Want me to turn down the air con a bit?" I offered.
"It's fine," he said. "Like it better this way."
"Okay, then," I said.
We drove on in silence until I felt a compulsive need to thrum the faux leather steering wheel cover a bit (something Hal had added for a cowboy effect much like the gunslinger key ring ornament, I was sure), drum a rhythm for a moment, let out a rumble, a bit of a purr, something of a yawn, and gave leeway for that little shopping basket of a car trying to overtake our road warrior truck.
"Well, I bet you're excited!" I smiled to him, quickly over my shoulder.
"About what?" I spied a rather dubious-looking boy through the rear view mirror.
"Oh, you know!" I patted the steering wheel again. "New city, new college, new furs to meet...new friends..."
"Yeah," he said.
I hoped that was just him being a kid and not reflecting some deep-seated resentment with the arrangement, somehow.
Or maybe...hmmmm...well I should've thought about that, too...
"Though of course it means you have to leave all your Pittsburgh friends behind..." I noted, trying to sound casual about it, "but at least there's phones and Skype and Facebook stuff, right?"
"Yeah, sure," he said.
"And you can always go and visit during the holidays to see your friends and...anyone you'd like to see again, of course..."
Now he chuckled.
"Are you trying to go somewhere with that?"
Hmm...caught red-pawed.
"Well dads wonder about things like that, of course," I confessed.
"If you're wondering whether I left a girl crying after me, the answer is no."
"Well dads wonder about stuff like that," I repeated.
"I'm a Jewish geek, dad, that's not exactly a hot commodity in the high school dating market."
"You'd be surprised how hot it was in a Jewish high school," I retorted.
"Ugh," he grunted.
"Besides, I was a Jewish geek and I had a girlfriends, too!" I continued. "Your mother included."
"Yeah, that turned out really well, dad."
Well that joke came up biting me in the butt.
"Well," I adjusted my paws on the steering wheel, "I'm sure you'll meet many nice girls at the university!"
"Yeah."
"I mean, I looked it up online, they even have a small club there for - "
"For what?"
"For the local Jewish students, of course," I said, "it's run by the Jewish studies department."
"So you only want me to date geeky Jewish girls?" he sounded a bit pointed.
"No, no," I shook my head quickly, "I wasn't saying that!"
"I hope you weren't, you were starting to sound like grandmother."
Ugh...
"No, no, I think you can date anyone you like. It's not my business, anyway."
"It's always someone's business in my experience."
I huffed.
"Well that's true, but...you know, it's just one of those things parents tell their kids to make them feel better about themselves?" I said.
Paul chuckled.
"Is that a grown-up secret you're sharing with me?"
"Yes," I nodded, "consider yourself part of the club now."
"The Geeky Jewish Dating Club?"
Hmm...that was promising. At least he had comedic timing. That was sure to be a hit with the girls. It always worked. I felt much less worried in that very instant.
"If you insist, but you don't have to limit yourself like that."
"I probably won't even have time to date, with all the work I will have to do," he said.
"You'll have a lot of time to relax, too, I'm sure!" I smiled. "Besides, you'll be getting free board and meals...and I'll only expect you to keep your own room clean...I can do the rest of the cleaning, though help is always appreciated..."
"Gotcha," he said.
"It's a pretty good room!" that sounded like as good a topic as any to me. "I moved my office into the guest room so that you can get the bigger room, it's got its own bathroom and all, and I don't need that much space anyway, so you'll be well off with it, and I dug out some old sheets and put my old desk there, but it's very neat and I cleaned all the drawers and it's pretty nice, I think!"
"I get the picture," he said.
Well he could sound a bit more enthusiastic about it.
"Well I hope you don't think you're missing out on the wild and free dorm life by bunking down with you old dad!" I tried to sound cheerful with that.
"Did you have wild and free dorm life, dad?"
"No," I said, feeling deflated the moment I did, "usually I would be rocking you to sleep in your baby carrier with one paw while I was reading my book with the other paw."
"So no wild 70's disco parties?"
I blew him a raspberry as soon as I saw that he was smirking.
"Very funny," I said. "You know that both your mom and I were born in 1974."
"And here I was gonna ask you if you remembered the Moon landings."
Two could play this game, I thought.
"No, but I remember when the Wall came down," I said, "You know, that is the big wall-like thing that - "
"The Berlin Wall, yeah, we covered that in history class."
"I lived through that period of time, I should know."
My son chuckled.
"Do all grownups have a compulsion to ramble on about the time when they were young?"
Maybe that was a good sign, actually. I was annoying him with old stories just like any dad!
Great!
"Especially to their kids, of course!" I chuckled.
I wondered if Joel did that to him, too, and felt a pang of sadness in my very heart.
"Okay," he said. "I better try not to trigger those then."
"And of course even if you're living with me, doesn't mean that you can't have fun!" I said. "You can go to parties and events and you can have friends over..."
"...but only smart parties where you don't drink or take drugs or have sex, right?"
"Ahem..." I coughed, "well drugs are illegal and really bad for you and I certainly won't let you drink in the house before you're 21, but...well...ahh...the sex is alright as long as you're...you know...responsible...and you've considered all the ramifications..."
"I bet grandma would be thrilled about yet another teen pregnancy in the family," he said.
"That is not a very good thing to joke about," I replied shortly.
"Well I'm not stupid either," he said. "I'm not going to do anything stupid."
"Furs generally don't think they're doing a stupid thing when they do just that."
"This sounds like something from the aphorism page of General Interest or something," he complained.
"I'm just worried about you," I said. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you."
"When have I gotten into trouble, dad?"
"I'm not exactly sure, that's why I'm worried."
"I don't think you have anything to worry about."
I wish I could believe him completely...I really did.
"I really do want to get to know you," I said after a moment of silence between us. "I love you."
"What do you want to be then, dad?" he asked me, and I knew that he was looking at me, even if I was doing my best to keep my eyes on the road ahead of us.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you want to be my friend or my dad?"
"Can't I be both?" I asked.
"It doesn't really work like that."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I just do."
What a thoughtful man he had become...that was a point of pride for me, even if worry churned in my belly as I contemplated this all.
"Well, there's a gas station coming up in a few miles with a dining sign on it, that means they'll have something to eat and drink there," I told him after a bit, my decision set, pointing at the GPS screen "I need a cup of coffee at least."
"If you want to."
"Yes, I think I do," I smiled.
*
It was just what you'd expect. Some truckers hunched over their tables half-asleep, some overwhelmed mothers with cubs digging into plates of fries, the stench floating strong all over the dining area, a table with an old newspaper on it, a TV showing football with no sound on...furs with sunglasses propped over their foreheads and wearing flip-flops...
It all matched, and we had coffee, and some inoffensive soup I had managed to find, and a bit of drink, and I got an opportunity to watch Paul again, sitting there, stirring the cup with a plastic spoon, a slim figure in his shirt and all. Not squinting anymore, thanks to the glasses he'd gotten when he was 16. Much later than I did. A nice pair of specs, nothing obtrusive over his face, and with anti-glare coating. Nice!
"Well this is nice!" I smiled.
"What is?"
"Relaxing, of course!" I said. "Stretching our legs..."
"We just swapped one chair to another less comfortable one," he noted.
"But we've got food!" I beamed. "And it tastes good!"
"It's okay," he mumbled.
On the table next to us, an overweight coyote was slurping down a huge milkshake. The stench of fried meat was still lingering strongly, too. It made me feel even more hungry, really.
"I'm probably not the best cook in town but I'll promise to try my best," I said, "and to keep the fridge stocked, of course, so that you'll have stuff to snack on if you get the munchies."
He looked at me, his ears quirking.
"The munchies?"
"I like snacking," I confessed, "though I try to limit it to healthy stuff like vegetables. I was starting to get a paunch."
"So you only eat cucumbers now while watching TV in your underwear?"
"More like while messing around on my computer!" I beamed.
"Hopefully not in just your underwear..."
Nice one, son.
"No, no, no," I demurred quickly, "besides, I prefer carrots, anyway."
"Are you going to frown at me if I eat something that's bad for me?" he asked.
"Maybe a little but I won't stop you."
"How about if I want to eat something Grandma Crane wouldn't approve of?" he gave me a more pointed look.
I wondered whether I should be worried that he was using my mother as a euphemism for everything that was bad and wrong and disapproved and suspicious.
"Well..." I stirred my soup, "that is up to you, of course."
He watched me carefully.
"Would you mind?"
"I'm not your grandmother," I said.
"Somehow I still think you might get pissed off if I started frying pork chops in the kitchen."
I swallowed.
"I would...be pragmatic about it," I said.
"I don't know what you mean with that," he said.
I shrugged.
"That if you wanted to, I'd let you, as long as you wash up everything afterwards and don't use the Saturday dishes for it," I said.
Paul dipped a piece of bread into the soup and ate it noisily.
"You still don't sound very happy about it."
Somehow I got the idea that he was just testing me with all these questions....these scenarios he was coming up with. I didn't blame him for it...I would've probably done the same if I was in his situation or his age.
"I'm just saying, and this is going to sound preachy, but part of growing up is making all those decisions for yourself. Seeing how it makes you feel."
"You are right," he snuffled. "That sounds really preachy."
"I know," I said. "I just don't know how else to put it."
"Maybe you could lay down some rules," he said.
"I think those were laid down a really long time ago," I replied.
He looked at me.
"Was that a joke?"
"Maybe it was," I smiled.
We ate for a moment in silence.
"Is it still a long way to Kirk City?" he asked.
"About an hour or so," I said, "if the traffic stays light."
"I could drive the rest of the way," he said, "I wouldn't mind."
"Hmmm..." I frowned a little, enough to cause my own glasses to flop a little, "well, it's a borrowed car, and I don't really know if I should...I mean, it's my responsibility...Hal might not like me giving up the responsibility of the car to someone else."
"What could possibly go wrong?" Paul suggested.
"Well I don't know..." I waved my paw," I think it'd be more like a thing of a principle than any real suspicion that something awful would happen if I gave you the keys."
"Besides," he said, "we've got special protection, anyway."
"Hmmm?"
"There's a 'Jesus lives' sticker on the rear bumper," he noted, dead-pan.
My eyes widened.
"What?"
He chuckled softly.
"You can't claim you didn't know about it," he said. "I noticed it right away. I've been trying not to giggle ever since."
"Well it's a borrowed car..." I muttered.
"I bet Mrs Schuster next door saw it right away..." my son licked his lips rudely.
Oy...
"Right," I said aloud.
"So can I drive or not?" he sounded hopeful.
"I suppose I'll have to have a chat with Hal anyway..." I rumbled as I dug into my pocket for the car keys.
*
Thank you for reading my story! I hope you had an interesting time, and I look forward to your feedback! As always, remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well.
See you all on Friday for the next chapter!