Summary: Jim passes on the family tradition in 55 wordsTweaked response to the 55-word challenge, to not a "Jim-and-Pam-get-together" fic but rather a "Jim-and-his-daughter" fic. Now updated with more 55-word chapters (I find them rather fun!)
1. 55 by FictionInReality
2. 110 by FictionInReality
3. 165 by FictionInReality
4. 220 by FictionInReality
5. 275 by FictionInReality
6. 330 by FictionInReality
7. 385 by FictionInReality
8. 430 by FictionInReality
9. 485 by FictionInReality
“Daddy?”
“Claire?”
“Mr. Dwight said I’m an abomination.”
“Why would he say that?”
“I touched his bobbleheads.”
“That wasn’t nice, but you shouldn’t touch his things.”
“I know.”
He sighs, stares into her brown eyes. Finally,
“What’re you gonna do about it?”
“I took all of his bobbleheads and replaced them with Barbies.”
“Good girl.”
“Where could the bestest daddy in the world be? Bestest daddy?!”
“The bestest daddy is in here, Claire.”
His door creaks open and her big eyes find his, “Oh, there’s my wonderful daddy!”
“Here’s your wonderful daddy.”
“Daddy, you’re fantastic, wonderful, great!”
“What’d you break, Claire?”
She pauses, eyes widened,
“Daddy… you’re just so wonderful!”
“My friend’s got a girlfriend and he’s got an itch, he tells me everyday…”
“Claire, what’re you singing?”
“‘Why Don’t You Go Find Rob?’”
“…And who sings that song?”
“The Offspring.”
“That’s what I thought. You heard that from…?”
“Mr. Michael.”
He sighs, shakes his head,
“Did you find Rob yet?”
“No, daddy.”
“Continue, then..."
“Claire Marie Halpert?!”
“Daddy Man Halpert?!”
“Care to tell me who drew on the bathroom mirror?”
She blinks guiltily, pleads,
“Noah?” He kneels to her level,
“Noah who can’t walk yet, much less climb up on a stool to color?”
She squints at him,
“Yes?”
“Claire Marie…”
“Not buying it?”
“Nope.”
“…Could you please?”
I'm a fan of the next chapter, but I'd really like more than two reviews on this chapter before I post the new one so... please? (I'm really not above begging)
Whether to laugh, cry, or simply blame his wife and call it a night?
Winner: option one.
This is Pam’s fault. Stupid Halloween.
His daughter wears a blonde wig and holds a bag adorned with costumed cats; his toddler son wears a button-down t-shirt and thick-rimmed glasses.
“Daddy,” Claire demands, “Where are the budget reports?!”
Yes, Miss Claire and I are finally back (in case there's anyone out there still interested in reading this? Our hiatus seemed to come in tandem with the one the actual show took, but the new episodes have sparked my imagination, so here's more of Claire's antics.
Disclaimer: Claire's mine, Noah (the rarely-seen second child) is mine, and that's about it :)
Those damn puppy-dog eyes.
“Pleeeeeeeease, Daddy?”
Pam had watched, allowed a six-year-old with superpowers to melt him.
“I’ll take care of her.”
Slow blinks, impossibly-wide eyelids.
“Promise.” Smooch-- on the nose
Now, a new set of puppy-dog eyes, fur-rimmed, far duller, blinking near overturned trinkets, asking, “Who, me?”
Jim hated puppy-dog eyes.I'm trying to decide whether to write a longer story based on Claire. Thoughts?
Thanks for reading :)
“Your daughter’s getting married.”
Jim stopped, eyed Pam curiously,
“Is that so?”
Pam nods solemnly,
“To Matty Whitman. They met by the swings— it was a playground courtship. Claire says it took off from there.”
“Matty… Matty… Is he the kid who pulls her braids and calls her ‘fartface?’”
Another nod,
“Love at first sight.”
“Daddy!”
“Claire!”
“It’s my birthday!”
“Yes it is!”
“We can do whatever I want?”
“Sure.”
“And I won’t get in trouble?”
“…Why?” Jim narrows his eyes, wanders into the bathroom, finds Crayola markers strewn on the ground, paperless and uncapped.
A whine, “Daaaaddddyyyy” from behind; Jim’s jaw drops.
“Why is Noah pink?!”
“It’s my birthday!”
Noah showed up!
Reviews are love :)
Hmm, it turns out Pam's middle name is the same as what I named their dog. Weird.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Seriously.
He shouldn’t be surprised- his daughter’s always been compassionate- she makes you set free the bugs that wander inside rather than kill them. She can’t watch Bambi because she’ll cry for a week.
But a funeral for a squirrel that fell out of a tree?
Pam sighs,
“It’s like DeJaVu. At least Claire’s only six.”