Trisha was looking at some menu online, her family getting ready to order for pick up, when there was a knock on the door.
“? I’ll get it!” she said as she pushed herself off the couch. She strolled over to the front door and opened it, her eyes widening. “Uncle Aaron!” she exclaimed with a wide grin on her face.
“Salutations, Trisha! It’s been....what, 6 years since I’ve last seen you? And you’ve grown quite a lot in such a short amount of time!” Angry Archer, er, Aaron said. It was strange looking at the man who was normally dressed up as Robin Hood, but in a more....normal outfit, like a green sweater and beige pants. “I remember when you would call me ‘Uncle Archie’!”
The teen rolled her eyes as her parents came to see their guest. “Apparently the mun never checked to see if you actually had a first name. ....or an actual last name,” she pointed out, noticing how her uncle looked confused by the statement. “Ah, what brings you here?”
“Well you see, I’ve been privy to a parole and-” he started to explain before noticing the look on his brother’s face. “Right, dropping the act, but my parole officer is allowing me to take you all for a trip to ye-olde-Detroit.”
Trisha just looked amused. “So much for dropping the act, unc.”
“Oh but I honestly do mean ‘ye-old-Detroit’; you see, I’ve been feeling nostalgic and I found out that one of the places that me and your father went to when we were younger was still around in the older sections of town! I thought ‘why not bring the whole family!’ and here I am!”
“Old places...” her father murmured before snapping his fingers. “Oh I know exactly what you’re talking about! Ah, but we were about to get some lunch...”
Aaron frowned, rubbing his chin. “A problem to be sure....perhaps we can check it out tomorrow, Issac?”
“Sounds good to me! Would your parole officer be ok with you staying here for lunch?” he asked. “Or would that be possibly breaking it?”
Aaron groaned, “right, you have a point....Well I can’t stay, unfortunately, but maybe next time!” And with a wave, he was heading back to the car he came in, being driven by what Trisha assumed was a robotic parole officer. “Until tomorrow!”
Trisha looked up at her dad as he left. “You seem...alright with this; you normally don’t like talking to him.”
“Well...I don’t, but if he’s on parole, he’s probably getting some help or something. Besides, I think you’ll like this trip we’re going tomorrow; right now, lunch!”
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