My Little Dashie Stories

by Brony Chronicler

First Fight

I stumbled through the door Friday night. The clock read 10pm and I was just wiped out. Never in all my years at this job had I so badly wanted to fall down on the couch and die. I had to pull overtime tonight because I took Monday and Tuesday off to take care of Dashie. That virus really had me spooked.

Immediately upon entering my house, I noticed the kitchen floor was covered in flour, with a few tiny hoof prints leading out to the den. I guess Dashie had attempted to bake something on her own, and had another failed attempt. I do admit, sometimes I really wish she'd clean up after herself, especially on a night like this.

I then walked into the den, only to find an opened box of crayons scattered across the floor, and a lot of crumbled paper. Over the last couple of weeks, Dashie had been practicing drawing with them, and like with writing, she used her mouth to hold them. I also saw some other toys on the floor, and what looked like the remains of the food I left out for her this morning. I think I even saw some ketchup on my father's old chair. Regardless, I DIDN'T feel like cleaning it up at the moment. I was just too tired.

I plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote, hoping to maybe catch the late night re-run of the Daily Show with John Stewart. But before I could get a grasp on it, a loud voice came from down the hall.

"DADDY, DADDY…" said Dashie, running out into the den with a piece of paper in her mouth.

"Daddy, look what I drew today."

Without even looking, I simply groaned and asked her to show me later as I was just too tired. This wasn't anything new to her, she was aware that work could be tiring, and would often try to give me at least a few minutes of peace before asking for something. However today was different, she REALLY wanted me to see her drawing and just wouldn't take no for an answer.

That's when my stomach suddenly growled, and I remembered that I hadn't eaten since my lunch break at noon. I slowly lifted myself from the couch and attempted to get to the kitchen, but Dashie kept jumping in my way and insisted that I see her picture.

"Please Daddy, I worked so hard on it."

"Can you please just let me eat first sweetie," I groaned as I limped to the kitchen. However she just continued to get in my way and kept up with her begging fest.

After finally reaching the fridge, I thought to myself how great that leftover pizza would be. But when I opened the fridge, I saw the box was empty and there were crumbs leading into the living room. That's when I realized that what was on my father's chair wasn't ketchup, it was tomato sauce.

What a situation I was in. I was tired and hungry with no food, as wells as a whole house to clean up, along with the little pony who made the mess begging for me to look at her picture.

"Daddy, I really want to you see…"

That's when I cut her off as I had lost all control of my temper. All the pressure had gotten to me as I bellowed out one of the worst things I've ever said in my life.

"DASHIE… would you PLEASE just give me just five minutes to myself?!!! I've had a real rough day, haven't eaten since noon and now I've got to clean up the mess you made. I swear sometimes I wish you didn't live here with me… at least then I wouldn't have to worry about cleaning up your messes."

That's when Dashie froze, and her eyes started to tear up. I then realized what I had just said and attempted to take it all back.

"No Dashie, I…"

But before I could finish, she dropped her picture in flour on the floor, and ran to her room in tears. After I heard the door slam, I fell to my knees. I then picked up the picture she had left behind… and started sobbing when I saw what it was. She had drawn the two us in our house (albeit by the standards of an eight year old) and it had a sign over it that said "Daddy and Dashie."

I cried all over the floor, and wanted so badly to take back what I had said. This was the little girl I had taken care of all these years. And now she was showing how much she appreciated it… and I had just told her that I wished we didn't live together. What have I done?

I let an hour pass, before opening the door to Dashie's room. I saw her on the bed with her sobbing face buried in her pillow. I also noticed the window next to her bed was open, and her toys in a plastic bag… along with a picture of the two us together. She must've taken my words to heart, and decided to run away… only to be held back by her emotional attachments. I then realized a lot was at stake, and my next course of action would make all the difference. If I screwed this up, it could mean saying goodbye to my daughter forever. So figuring I couldn't put this off any longer, I walked over to her bed… and sat down beside her.

She didn't look up from her pillow, not even to see what was weighing her sheets down, as though I wasn't really there. I then placed my hand on her shoulder, only for her to shove it away immediately upon contact, which told me my words stung her worse than I thought.

"Dashie…" I slowly said, trying to sound as sympathetic as I could.

"Go AWAY," she said through her tears.

I let a moment of silence pass us by, as I attempted find the right words to say to her.

"Dashie…I'm sorry I yelled at you. I don't want you to go away, I love you. I… I just had a really rough day at work, and I took it out on you. It was wrong of me… and I'm really, really sorry."

She didn't respond and probably figured I only was saying this in an attempt whoo her back to my side. I pulled out her drawing and attempted to use it to my advantage.

"I saw your drawing. It's really good, much better than I could ever draw."

I then chuckled a bit, hoping it would lift some of the tension. But it didn't, she just continued crying, as though she could sense my desperation. I was now completely lost, and really desperate to figure out what to do next. A good minute passed, filled only with the sound of Dashie's crying. I knew this was my last chance, and if I failed now… I might never see her again. So, I decided to throw all my cards on the table, and fight fire with fire.

I then started crying into my hands, which seemed to grab Dashie's attention. She slowly lifted her head from her pillow, and looked at me with her big round eyes.

"Why are you crying?" she asked, as though she had just forgotten everything that had happened.

I spoke through my somewhat fake tears, trying to sound as pathetic as I possibly could.

"Because I had a really bad day. My boss said I was late, I didn't get a second break for dinner, all the customers were mean to me, and now my own daughter hates me."

Dashie crept closer to me, looking at me curiously as thought she didn't understand what was going on. I seriously didn't expect this to work so smoothly, but I decided to continue as best I could. She told me that she didn't hate me, and I responded by saying she was just saying that. The tables had now turned, and now she was the one trying to win back my affection.

As she tried to get through to me, I started toning down my crying act, and started playing it more like stand up comedy. I started going on a comedic rant about how horrible everything had gone today. Dashie started giggling and even joined in herself talking about her day.

Before I knew it, we were in each other's arms, the two of us giggling over how horrible our day was. I then picked her up and carried her into the kitchen then set her down in the den and grabbed my keys. I then told her to pick up her toys and I'd reward her by bringing her a late night dinner from the local Wendy's. She smiled and gave me a "got it" salute, as I headed out the door.

After the two us ate dinner and finished cleaning the house, I put Dashie to bed and took her picture back to the kitchen. I then put it on the fridge, and took a good long look at it. I thought this was good idea, so that if I ever came home in another bad mood, that picture would remind me of the wonderful daughter I have. The two of us have had a really rough week, but I think we're due for some good times ahead.

Author's Note:

While these stories are all stand alone, this one's a loose sequel to Sick Day.

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