Novelas y relatos de Wheels And The Legman American Dad

"My dad was sitting by the kitchen doors, and you said he was fine where he was. My brother got pulled from the wedding party, and you said Theo looked better up there. My dad's name disappeared from the program, and you said he wasn't comfortable with that kind of thing." I went through it piece by piece, my voice level the whole time. He couldn't argue with a single one. Dad closed the lid on the repaired chest. The new clasp clicked softly into place. "Mr. Chambers," Dad said. "My daughter isn't looking for compensation. She just wants her family to be treated like they matter." Elliott's fingers tightened at his sides. Just then, his phone rang. He answered, and I watched the color drain

After a long pause, he said quietly, "Yeah. He always took my stuff. He said we were poor, and I was a kid without a mom." Pain shot through my chest. I pulled him into my arms. "If anyone ever says things like that again, tell me right away. I'll handle it." He nodded, then looked up at me. "Dad, now that Liam's dead, will he turn into a ghost and come get me?" I froze. "Why would you think that?" "That's what he used to say. He said if he died, he'd turn into a ghost and come find me. He'd take me away with him."

Lena was afraid that there might be a problem with his legs, so she closed the door and knelt down by his feet. "Do your legs hurt? Where is your wheelchair?" "Lost."

Before he could finish his words, he looked at me with his eyes shining, "Are we going to see Dad? Dad is back, isn't he?" I didn't expect him to guess the answer so quickly. I nodded my head to show my tacit consent. Thinking of Patrick's legs, I reminded Glenn, "However, Dad has become a little different recently. Glenn, you have to learn to accept that." "What's wrong with Dad?" "Dad's legs are injured. So he probably can't stand up for the time being. So don't say anything that breaks Dad's heart later, okay?" "No problem!" Glenn nodded seriously and genuinely.

If you lose sight of your initial objectives, then I will withdraw the sponsorship at any time. Daryl nodded in understanding. However, I could catch a flash of disappointment in his eyes. I went silent for a bit. Then, I added, "However, you can still call me your dad in public if you need to." His eyes lit up with a bright smile at once. His smile stunned me. I found it so ironic that Tammy, my own daughter, didn't care about me as her dad, and yet, a stranger's kid was simply ecstatic to be allowed to call me his dad.

She wasn't asking me; she was asking the universe, praying this wasn't a cruel hallucination. "It's me, Ma," I said. My voice sounded rusty, foreign in my own ears. "No," my dad said, backing away slowly until he hit the wall. His face had drained of all color, leaving a grey mask of shock. "No. We saw the video, Baraka. It’s all over W******p. The truck... your leg..." He couldn't finish the sentence. He pointed a shaking finger at my legs. I looked down. The visual was horrifyingly confusing. The torn trouser leg ended abruptly, revealing a shin, ankle, and foot that were perfectly smooth, unblemished, and bare.

Damien I limped into the living room and there he was, Dad, standing like he owned the whole damn world in his stupid campaign tie . Phone glued to his ear, talking fast and low to someone who was definitely paid to fix his messes. Big Mike hovered right behind me like some disappointed dad who actually gave a crap, which was hilarious because the real one never did. My leg screamed every time I put weight on it but I tried to play it cool, like getting dragged home by security and almost punching Jax in the face was just another Tuesday.

He slowly lifted his head while trembling with fear. "D-Dad" he called his father in front of him. He is glaring at her and the coldness of his looks. No emotion could be seen in his eyes as he looked at his daughter who was sitting in a wheelchair and crippled. “You crippled your own leg, then what? He just wants to leave you? ” Maddison shook her head quickly. “N-N-No Dad! I-It’s not like that. I d-did this to myself so h-he won’t leave me but- ”

"I'm so sorry, Mom. I went out with a friend and didn't realize how late it had gotten." My dad, sitting in his worn-out wheelchair, gave me a disapproving look. "Why didn't you tell us you were going out with a friend?" "I'm sorry, Dad," I said, moving closer to him. "I should have told you." As I stood there, looking at the worn-out wheelchair he was confined to, a pang of sadness hit me. Since his accident, everything had spiraled downward for our family. My dad, once a strong and vibrant man, was now dependent on a faulty wheelchair because we couldn't afford the money for artificial legs. My mom's job could barely cover the essentials, let alone his medical bills. She started borrowing

A comedy show played on TV. Callie, still wearing those spike-studded dance shoes, sat cross-legged on the couch eating cherries. Mom was feeding them for her, while Dad was massaging her legs. "Callie, does your leg still hurt?" Dad asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. Callie let out a coquettish scoff. "It hurts. That wretched Arlene has such hard bones—they made my feet ache. Dad, can you break her bones tomorrow? That way they'd be softer to step on."