Directive: Archetypes
Archetype: The Everyman/The Clown
Dads are great, but their jokes often leave something to be desired. I was inspired by the many cringeworthy “Dad Jokes” that I’ve found on the internet to write a short story.
Here’ s some great examples:
When I walked into the kitchen this morning, my dad was cooking by the stove and my younger brother was shoveling pancakes into his mouth. My dad turned, he was wearing his apron that had a yellow & red striped bowtie printed on the front and there was a small smear of pancake batter above his glasses. “Good morning my little ray of sunshine,” he exclaimed and I grunted in response. I plopped down at the table with a thud. As my dad turned back around he said, “I’m getting whiskey over here,” he paused, “do you want some?”
“What?” I snorted and whipped around.
My dad stood there with a look of innocence and a whisk covered in batter held in the air.
“Do you want some?” he asked again.
Struggling not to smile, I rolled my eyes and said, “No thanks, I’m going to make some oatmeal.”
Steam wafted from my oatmeal as I waited for it to cool. My brother finished his plate and went off to destroy the Lego tower he built to perfection the night before. My dad, finished cooking, sat at the table reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee. His face was serious as he lowered the paper, “Why do ghosts like oatmeal?”
“Dad!” I whined.
He gives a small smirk and continues, “Because it’s super natural.”
My brother who magically reappeared in the kitchen, laughed hysterically. I shook my head and crammed oatmeal into my mouth despite the burning sensation.
After breakfast I stood by the door tapping my foot. I looked down at my cell phone, the time read 7:35, five minutes after school started.
“Dad, I’m late,” I say with annoyance.
“Hi late, I’m Dad,” he responds.
“Dad, I’m supposed to meet with my driving instructor this morning. She’s going to leave without me,” I moaned.
Looking more concerned now, he apologizes, “I’m sorry, sweetie. We can go now.”
He grabs the keys to his Volkswagen Golf and we leave.
I missed my driving class and when my dad picked me up at the end of the day, I was still upset about it. I dodged his questions about my day and sat, with my arms crossed, staring out of the window. Once we drove past the street our house is on, I looked at him in confusion.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see”, he replied.
We turned down a street I’d never been down before and we turned into a deserted parking lot for a derelict shopping center.
“Where are we?” I ask sounding more exasperated.
“In the car,” he says, this time smiling.
He got out of the car and came around to my side. He opened my door and looked annoyed at me, “The car isn’t going to drive itself,” he exclaims.
I chose to focus on motoring pleasure for this post. I really wanted to play up Volkswagen’s clever side. Although the dad character doesn’t fit the brand’s archetype, I think the two work well together.
The Creative Marathon 