Irreplaceable Author: Romantique Email: dolph1n@sbcglobal.net Rating: G Classification: Part of the "Scratched Coffee Table" Series Distribution: Archive anywhere, but please e-mail me at dolph1n@sbcglobal.net Summary: This is a 500 word short in response to the 2002 "The Guardian Holidaze Fanfic Challenge." It is exactly 500 words from the first word of the story to the end. --+-- Nick helped his father into the entry of his home. He had never noticed how much his dad had aged, as if overnight. Burton Fallin had always been an invincible force in the eyes of his son . . . strong and powerful. But today, he was only the shell of the man he used to be. As the two made their way into the living room toward the safe-haven of the sofa, Nick considered the void Burton would leave when he was no longer able to work. A void I'll never fill. Once comfortably seated, Nick propped his father on cushions set to a 45 degree angle, just as the eye surgeon instructed. Burton then pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He lit one, took in a deep drag, and then another. Before the lit ash at the end of the cigarette fell to the floor, Nick rushed to grab an ashtray from a nearby end table. Not a minute after averting a cigarette disaster, Burton swung his shoed feet up on Nick's coffee table. In horror Nick said, "Dad, your shoes scratched my coffee table." "Oh, I'm sorry," Burton mumbled, still trying to adjust to his loss of sight. "It's just that the table is kind of expensive," Nick added. "Then, I'll buy you another one," Burton countered, clearly irritated with Nick's remark. "You CAN'T buy me another one. It's . . . it's irreplaceable . . . an antique," Nick tried to explain. "You know Nicholas, I've never understood why you buy furniture you can't use. What's the point of having it if you can't use it?" Burton droned. "It's an investment, Dad," he tried to explain. "But even if it wasn't, why would you put your feet up on someone else's furniture?" "I said I was sorry," Burton's volume increased. "I asked you to take me to my house . . . where I can be in my own bed and not have to worry about your investments." Now, Burton sounded defensive. "You can lie down on my bed if you would be more comfortable there," Nick countered. He actually felt sorry for his dad. "I would be more comfortable in my own home," Burton sternly retorted. "Look," Nick held onto his patience. "The doctor said you need someone to make sure you lie at a 45 degree angle and . . . and that you use your eye drops as directed, and . . . and . . ." "Jeez, Nicholas, I'm not an invalid," Burton barked. "This isn't going to work here. I can take care of myself . . . in my own home! Now, are you going to take me home, or do I have to call a cab?" "Fine, fine. I'll take you home," Nick relented and added, "Sometimes, you can be so stubborn." "Me, stubborn? You're a fine one to talk," Burton hissed under his breath. And they rode to Burton Fallin's home without speaking one word. THE END