A/N: hey everybody!! Welcome to my...um...ninth or something fan fiction. Please read and tell me what you think. Constructive criticisms more than welcome but please please no flames. Thank you, and enjoy.
Everyone's probably heard the term "like father, like son" right? Well, you know what? It's crap. Two reasons. One: it's so totally sexist. I mean, where'd the mothers and daughters go? Everyone should just say "like parent, like child" or something. But that's dumb too, leading me to the second reason: it's just wrong. It's a stupid saying made up by some stupid guy who thought he could be a...you know, one of those guys who make up stupid sayings. My name is Artemis Fowl, and I'm nothing like my father.
Okay, maybe that's exaggerating just a little. I still have that same black Fowl hair and deep blue Fowl eyes that make me wonder if I'm not just a female clone of my dad. It's possible, him being really smart and all.
I love my parents, I really do. But sometimes, no, most of the time, they really get on my nerves. Both of them are geniuses and everything and I'm, like, the only non-genius besides Uncle Myles, Uncle Bennett, Grams and Gramps. So, anyway, I get back from school to that gargantuan palace I'm supposed to call home and I get out that homework that's killing my back and mom and dad are all peeking over my shoulders and whenever I pause for just a second, they're all like, "oh, dear, you need help on that one? Oh, my, that's so easy. You must not have been paying attention in class. Are you sure you're feeling alright sweetie pie? Usually you love math!" and I'm thinking as ifff!
But I think the time I really got annoyed at the 'rents was when I finally realized that pretty much everything mom and dad ever told me was a lie. I shouldn't have been too surprised since parents lie to their kids all the time, but this was huge. I mean, what could be huger than finding out after fifteen years that your old man's a criminal?
So I was sneaking around the house trying to find that secret passageway behind the bookshelf like that every mansion in every movie has when I heard my parents having some sort of argument.
I heard them right in the middle of their conversation and mom seemed to be telling dad to give something up. I heard dad say, "how can I give that up? It's my whole life? My father did it, his father, and his father before him!"
Then mom was all like, "Yes, and your father was almost killed doing it." I remember thinking Gramps was almost killed? I thought he was a business-dude or whatever. So's dad.
That last comment seemed to make dad real angry and I heard his chair screech along the wooden floor. I tried peering through the keyhole like in detective movies and stuff but this was real life and that never works so I had to be satisfied with putting my ear against the door.
Then dad said sharply, "He wasn't careful. I'm not him. I am careful. I can empty a bank without getting caught or suspected and I've been doing that since I was a teenager. I would know these things, Minerva."
"Artemis," mom said, "remember what happened back in Munich? When you tried to take that painting from that bank?"
Dad snapped, "Yes, and I did."
Mom ignored that and said, "And if it wasn't for Captain Short, you'd have died."
Dad was silent and I was about to leave and just go check my email but then dad began talking again. He said, "I know, Minerva. But I was a child. I needed the fairies."
I have no idea what happened after that 'cause I'm copying this out of my diary and maybe my pencil broke or something and I went to get a sharpener than I forgot what I was going to write or something. You know, I have no idea why I'm telling you this. It doesn't take a genius to realize that this is supposed to be a secret, my dad being a criminal and still believing in fairies when he was fourteen. I mean, that's just embarrassing. He was supposed to be a genius.
So yeah, here's the moral of this short whatchamacallit. Never trust your parents. Hell, never trust adults in general. My name is Artemis Fowl III, and I'm nothing like my father.