Note: This is the first of a planned four stories about various points in Mutt's life before KotCS. This one should by far be the shortest.
Disclaimer: George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and assorted companies affiliated with them own everything related to the Indiana Jones universe. I'm just having fun and am certainly not making any profit off this.
I never really knew my father. My first father, I mean. I'm finally getting to know my second father. Or is the other way around? My first father is really my second father and my second father is my first father? Or I guess he's my first and third father? Uh… Maybe I better start over.
I never really knew my stepfather, Colin Williams. I know the stories my mom's told me about him, but I don't remember much on my own.
I remember his boots. I'd be playing or crawling around and would get really excited whenever I heard the distinct thud of those boots on the hard floor. Mom told me that I used to love the shininess of his boots right after he polished them. She said I tried gnawing on the toes when I was teething and more than once ended up with a black mouth from the polish. I don't remember that. I just remember being happy when I heard those boots coming my way.
I remember his moustache. It was small but kind of thick and bushy. When I'd go to bed at night, he'd sometimes come in to tuck me in or whatever. We'd rub noses and his moustache would tickle a little and always made me giggle.
I remember his eggs. He always had scrambled eggs for breakfast but he'd put some kind of weird sauce on them. It smelled great. I guess I was always pestering him to let me try them. I don't remember that part. I just remember the day he gave in. I can't picture him, but I can hear his voice as he told me, "You're not going to like it." I can see his fork coming at me with a tiny bit on it. Those eggs and that sauce might have smelled great but it tasted terrible. Hot and spicy but also really salty and just plain gross. I can hear him laughing softly at my reaction and offering me a glass of water to get that taste out of my mouth. I wonder what that sauce was. Maybe I should ask mom sometime.
Like I said, I never really knew my stepfather. These few random moments are all the memories I have of him. Mom's told me that he was an RAF pilot and was killed in the Battle of Britain. He must have been brave and tough to go up against those German planes night after night. He was shot down a couple of months after my second birthday. All I understood at the time was that Mom was really sad. I think it was several months before I stopped asking when he would be home again.