hot dad + google

“I want you to write that book,” Hot Dad told me, excited. “I want to read about other parents’ deviancy.” I thought. “What book?”
“The one you threaten to write! Or no, not you – the director. About what she’s seen in school? Like all the things that the parents have done over the years . . . ” I’m sure he went on for some time, but since it was largely redundant and my attention span is short my mind gave me useful tidbits such as ‘he’s a ginger!’

Recalling myself – his voice is the worst to listen to, sends chills wherever it is that chills go and makes me think of villains – I told him that since it wasn’t me that had the idea, I couldn’t really tell him what the book would look like, other than involving pseudonyms. “Oh yes, you would have to, wouldn’t you?” he concurred. “Otherwise everyone would hate you and know who you were.”
“Well they will know. How would they not know?”
“You said synonyms, right?”
“Yes, but not – not all around.” I shifted the phone on my ear, chose to ignore ‘synonyms.’ “People want to know that here’s this director, who has a backstory, who’s been in this business -” he cut me off. “Then how do I know who the people are?”
“You . . . won’t. You just have to enjoy the stories like you do now when you hear them, without -”
“But I want to know who they are!” he laughed. “Otherwise what’s the point? If she uses a synonym then no one will ever know who wrote it. Get it?”
“No one will think ‘this is a story of me, in exacting detail’ with my real name, and only one person knows these details’?”
“Gosh Lola,” he laughed more, “That’s where the synonyms come in!” I sighed. I did not welcome my current train of thought. “You can’t know who these people are, sorry. Protecting the innocent . . . ” I stopped, had a new thought. “You want to – you want to Google them, don’t you?”
“No! Well, yeah! I want to look at their faces.”

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