A reader named sofia2017 has requested that I write a story where Big Bob pays more attention to Helga and we learn more about how she knows she is allergic to strawberries. I will definitely touch on the first part and maybe the second. Here is the beginning of a story for sofia2017!

Just inside the hallway door of the Pataki family residence stood a tiny wooden table just big enough for the bit of crochet cloth and the telephone that resided on it. It rang, once twice, before being picked up none other than Helga Geraldine Pataki herself. She had been nearby.

"Hello?" she asked scratching her armpit in barbaric fashion. She tipped her head as she listened to the telephone.

"No, I don't know anything about a Mirabelle or night sailing. You must be terribly confused or something. Try a new area code." Helga hung up the phone with a mighty click as he father, Big Bob traveled her way in the hallway.

"Who's that, Helga?" her father asked, saying her name for once. He kept one eyebrow lifted up but was in a calm and pleasant mood overall.

"Oh, nothing Dad!" Helga lied nimbly. "Just the phone company. You know, you really oughta check to make sure the phone line doesn't run off." Big Bob looked more quizzical, but he scooted out the door with briefcase in hand.

"Okay... I'm going to work!" the man paused to tell his daughter as she stood at the doorway.

"Sure thing, Dad!" Helga answered him calmly. "Bye!" She gave him a cheery wave.

"Man oh man!" Helga exclaimed to herself. She cracked her knuckles idly before tiptoeing to the kitchen to peek in to see her mother working to make some food at the kitchen counter. "It's hard to believe that woman is my mother in more ways than one. But oh well!" Helga went upstairs to immerse herself in her Wrestlemania trading cards collection for a time.

Helga was doing her own thing. But Big Bob Pataki was in town for the day. He had a breakfast meeting at a waffle house with some client and as he sat on the cheap diner bench before a pile of pancakes, surrounded by waitresses passing by with yet more trays of pancakes for chubby couples or truckers or men in business suits, he noted that there also were a lot of fathers with sons for some as yet unexplained reason.

"Hey. This place is packed today. I wonder why," Big Bob Pataki mumbled.

"It's Father's Day," the business person he had come here to meet said by manner of explanation.

"Oh," Big Bob mumbled out. "I forgot."

"Now about the merchandise we were discussing," the man droned away as Big Bob thought and examined the crowd around him.

Soon, the business meeting was over and Big Bob shook the hand of someone before he hailed a cab and rode away. Then Big Bob was left on the street. He examined the mixture of cheerful and unhappy faces all around him.

"Hm," Big Bob walked down the sidewalk, carrying his briefcase. He stopped a few feet away from a park bench where a father and his tiny daughter sat together waiting for the local bus. The father handed the daughter a large, blue, squishable doll nearly as large as the child herself.

"Oh, I love you, Daddy!" said the girl hurling herself at the the blue toy and squishing it. The Father, daughter, and toy huggled together. "You're the bestest, bestest father EVER!" Children and their proud parents seemed to everywhere in the opposite to a dystopian movie.

"Hm," Big Bob stated to himself as he walked past a store board with words, "Father's Day," boldly printed on it. He entered the convenience store anyway to buy a candy bar. And while he was there, he walked to end of the shop to pick up paper towels and toothpicks. A seasonal display with lots of people lingering it attracted his attention, so he opened up a few of the greeting cards other people had left misplaced on the shelves.

"Bleh," Big Bob grimaced. "These greeting cards are sickeningly sweet. And yet…Hm. Maybe I should do something for Helga."

"Celebrating Father's Day today, sir?" a helpful, hopeful shop clerk asked.

"Eh? Ah. Yeah. Maybe was thinking about it," the awkward man grumbled.

"I have two kids, myself!" the shop clerk cheerfully uttered. "I"m taking them both fishing and boating this afternoon. But, I sure love Father's Day! They bought me a tie and some candies! They're just so so sweet!"

"Huh?" Big Bob asked. "How come I don't get presents like that?"

"I don't know, sir," was the suddenly uneasy shop clerk's answer. Big Bob looked long and thoughtful. Then he picked out a small card and rode a cab home. But he hid the card in his pocket.

"I"m home!" Big Bob announced. Helga lifted her brow at him. "I thought you went to work."

"I did!" Big Bob explained himself. For a moment, he looked as if he was almost about to give Helga the card. But he didn't remove it from his shirt pocket. Instead, he stood about, looking squeamish and awkward.

"Say, Helga," he fumbled. "Do you know what today is?"

"The weekend? Did I miss something? Oh, is it allowance day or something?"

"No, Helga!" Big Bob tried to force some spirit behind his words. "It's Father's Day!"

"Father's who?"

"Father's Day!" the man struggled awkwardly. "You know, the holiday!"

"Oh. Yeah! I've heard about that!" Helga tsked.

"So you know," Big Bob mumbled with a hint of shame. "Do I get presents?"

"Whaddya mean do you get presents?!" Helga asked in sudden bewilderment. "Don't I get presents?" Her eyes whirled around. "So who gets the presents?!"

"I dunno!" Bob pleaded with surprisingly humbleness. "I think we both get one!"

"Right. Sure. Okay, then. Be right back." Helga jogged up the staircase and dashed into her room. The door slammed noisily then, reopened and she scooted down the stairs again.

"Here. A present." Helga held up a trading card to her father as he stood near the entranceway to the house.

"Great," Big Bob gruffed. "This is for you." He pulled the greeting card he had hid from his shirt pocket and handed it to Helga. "Look!"

"Wow," Helga shocked in her breath. "This is a shock. Really! Uh, thanks Dad!" Her father cracked a rather unconvincing grin and Helga jolted at how vulnerable the man seemed. She opened the card to read it.

"It's blank, Bob!" she mumbled. "You forgot to sign it!"

"Oh. Sorry!" the man awkwardly said as he scratched his neck and averted his gaze from hers, as small she was. Helga folded her arms to hear his answer. "It's got a pretty picture of flowers on it!"

"Yeah. I see. I LIKE it, Dad. Thanks," Helga forced out. Then she rolled her eyes backwards with discomfort. "Ugh.. so what do we do now?"

"What do we do?"

"Like hug or something? Bleh, bleh never mind!" Helga shook her hand. "I don't want any of that! But should we hang out or something?"

"Hmm. Yeah. That's not a bad idea, Helga!" Big Bob said. "It's traditional!"

"But what should we do?" Helga mused. Both Patakis twisted their heads around at the sound of television commercial not far off. They walked toward it like moths drawn to the light. It was an exciting commercial for Dinoland.

"Come for Father's Day! Half-off on children ages under fourteen!" the commercial sang. Helga and Bob both grinned at one another.

"Alright! We're off to the amusement theme park!" Big Bob cheered as best as he could. Helga grinned back. It was a new, and very unexpected adventure.