An Interview with Daddy
Brick got a surprise today: a brand new desk to solve his cases at. Just in time too, since he was being photographed for an article in the Mirage River Gazette. He and Rocky just solved a big case and it's in all the papers, along with pictures of the two intrepid detectives.
"That's it. Hold that pose," the photographer from the Gazette instructed, snapping the picture. "Great! Very official. Thanks, Detective Wall." And, with that final shot, he went out.
Chuckling to himself over how star-struck some people could be when they met either of the two detectives, Brick turned back to his new desk and the case at hand he was working on there.
"Daddy, can I talk to you for a second?" Horace stepped into his father's office and asked.
"Sure, buddy. What's up?" Brick glanced over at his son.
"It's just I have to write an essay on what I want to be when I grow up for school," Horace hung his head and stood at his father's knees while Brick swung about in the chair to face him. "I don't want to do it, but Mommy said I have to."
Brick laughed. "Your mother's very smart. She knows what's best for you. So what seems to be the problem?"
Horace looked up at his dad. "I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, but I was thinking maybe a detective like you," he explained.
"I like that idea," Brick grinned. "You want to climb up and see how I do what I do?"
"Sure," Horace scrambled up eagerly.
"See, here's my pen and my notepad," Brick began his mini lecture. "A detective takes a lot of notes. And here's..." patiently the young father went over all the items on his desk and in the desk drawers, explaining the use of each to his son.
"And here's an article of you and Uncle Rocky in the paper!" his enthusiasm growing, Horace pushed himself to his knees and leaned forward to point out the clipping he spoke of.
"That's right," Brick nodded.
Horace turned to his father and made a face. "But how do you know you'll always get the bad guy?"
"Honestly, I don't," Brick confessed with a soft smile. "But I always hold out hope that I will because I have your uncle Rocky backing me up, and we never quit until we catch the culprit."
"You're the best detective in the whole world, Daddy," unexpectedly, Horace gave Brick a big hug.
"Thanks, son," Brick hugged his little boy back. "That means a lot to me. Don't tell your uncle Rocky."
"Okay," Horace agreed, "and I know I want to be a detective now when I grow up, only..." he trailed off.
"Only what?" Brick frowned.
"Being a detective is tough and takes a lot of courage," Horace declared, sitting on the edge of the desk. "You've got to be a genius too, like you, and never, ever give up."
"Sounds about right," Brick chuckled. "So what's the problem?"
"It's just, what if I'm not any good at it?" Horace wrinkled his nose and demanded.
Brick laughed. "I know you're going to be a great detective if that's what you want to be. After all, you've got me and your uncle Rocky for examples, and we'll teach you everything you need to know."
"Thanks," Horace beamed.
"You're welcome," Brick set his little boy on the floor. "So what are you going to do now?"
"I'm going to go solve a case and write my essay," Horace decided.
"All I need is to find an assistant as good as Rocky."
"That's my boy. You go get 'em, son," Brick grinned, proud as a peacock. "I'll lend you Marcus for an assistant."
~SilverStar-Burst
"That's it. Hold that pose," the photographer from the Gazette instructed, snapping the picture. "Great! Very official. Thanks, Detective Wall." And, with that final shot, he went out.
Chuckling to himself over how star-struck some people could be when they met either of the two detectives, Brick turned back to his new desk and the case at hand he was working on there.
"Daddy, can I talk to you for a second?" Horace stepped into his father's office and asked.
"Sure, buddy. What's up?" Brick glanced over at his son.
"It's just I have to write an essay on what I want to be when I grow up for school," Horace hung his head and stood at his father's knees while Brick swung about in the chair to face him. "I don't want to do it, but Mommy said I have to."
Brick laughed. "Your mother's very smart. She knows what's best for you. So what seems to be the problem?"
Horace looked up at his dad. "I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, but I was thinking maybe a detective like you," he explained.
"I like that idea," Brick grinned. "You want to climb up and see how I do what I do?"
"Sure," Horace scrambled up eagerly.
"See, here's my pen and my notepad," Brick began his mini lecture. "A detective takes a lot of notes. And here's..." patiently the young father went over all the items on his desk and in the desk drawers, explaining the use of each to his son.
"And here's an article of you and Uncle Rocky in the paper!" his enthusiasm growing, Horace pushed himself to his knees and leaned forward to point out the clipping he spoke of.
"That's right," Brick nodded.
Horace turned to his father and made a face. "But how do you know you'll always get the bad guy?"
"Honestly, I don't," Brick confessed with a soft smile. "But I always hold out hope that I will because I have your uncle Rocky backing me up, and we never quit until we catch the culprit."
"You're the best detective in the whole world, Daddy," unexpectedly, Horace gave Brick a big hug.
"Thanks, son," Brick hugged his little boy back. "That means a lot to me. Don't tell your uncle Rocky."
"Okay," Horace agreed, "and I know I want to be a detective now when I grow up, only..." he trailed off.
"Only what?" Brick frowned.
"Being a detective is tough and takes a lot of courage," Horace declared, sitting on the edge of the desk. "You've got to be a genius too, like you, and never, ever give up."
"Sounds about right," Brick chuckled. "So what's the problem?"
"It's just, what if I'm not any good at it?" Horace wrinkled his nose and demanded.
Brick laughed. "I know you're going to be a great detective if that's what you want to be. After all, you've got me and your uncle Rocky for examples, and we'll teach you everything you need to know."
"Thanks," Horace beamed.
"You're welcome," Brick set his little boy on the floor. "So what are you going to do now?"
"I'm going to go solve a case and write my essay," Horace decided.
"All I need is to find an assistant as good as Rocky."
"That's my boy. You go get 'em, son," Brick grinned, proud as a peacock. "I'll lend you Marcus for an assistant."
~SilverStar-Burst
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