𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 9
Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous
https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all
Read the Autism And All one first!
Plankton stands
up and storms off to the
bedroom, his steps heavy.
The door slams shut behind him,
the finality of it echoing through
the house. Chip's eyes fill
with tears, and he sinks to the
floor, feeling like he's failed
his dad. Karen sighs.
"Chip," she says, her voice
soft as she sits beside him.
"Your dad's just really sensitive
about his autism." She takes
his hand. "You have to remember,
it's not just something
he can turn on or off."
Chip nods, feeling small.
He didn't mean to upset
his dad. He just wanted to help,
like Timmy had helped him.
He thinks back to their lunchtime
chat, Timmy's hands flapping
freely as he talked about
his 'superpowers'. It had made
his dad's stims seem less
like a 'problem' and more like
something unique, something to
celebrate.
But now, Chip isn't so sure.
He looks up at Karen, his eyes
wet. "But Mom," he says, his voice
cracking. "Today at school, I met
a kid named Timmy. He said he's
autistic, and gave me this book. He
said this book makes him feel
like a superhero. He told me
the book made him feel seen,
understood." Karen nods, listening
intently as Chip speaks.
"And I thought...maybe it could
help Dad feel the same way,"
Chip continues, his voice
trailing off. Karen's gaze
softens. "You had good intentions,
Chip," she says, squeezing his
hand. "But everyone's different,
even those with autism. What
might help one person might
not be the same for another. It's
like a fingerprint—each one is
unique."
"But Timmy said it helps
him," Chip argues, his voice
small. Karen nods. "And that's
wonderful for Timmy," she
says. "But your dad's experience
is his own. He's not as
comfortable with it as Timmy
might be. Autism is like a
mosaic, Chip. Each piece is
different, and they all come
together to make a unique
picture." She pauses, searching
his eyes. "You can't always assume
what works for one will work
for another."
Chip wipes his screen with the
back of his hand, feeling a
wave of guilt wash over him.
He didn't mean to make his
dad feel worse. He just wanted
to share something positive.
"What do we do?" He asks,
his voice cracking. Karen takes
a deep breath. "We need to
talk to him," she says. "We need
to tell him that we love him
exactly as he is, without
conditions." She stands.
They approach the bedroom
door, Karen's hand on the
knob. "But remember,"
she whispers to Chip. "He's
fragile right now. We have
to be gentle." They step inside,
the room dimly lit.
Plankton's lying on the bed,
his back to them, his body
still. Chip's heart squeezes.
This isn't the invincible
scientist he's always known.
This is his dad, a man who's
been hurt by misunderstanding.
Karen clears her throat. "Plankton,
we need to talk." Plankton
doesn't move. "I'm sorry, Karen,"
he says, his voice muffled
by the pillow. "I just don't
have the energy for this
right now."
Chip's heart aches. He's never
seen his dad so defeated.
He takes a deep breath,
steeling himself for what
he's about to say.
"Dad," he starts, his voice
soft. "I'm sorry." Plankton's
body tenses but doesn't
turn around. "I didn't mean
to make fun of you or make
light of your autism. I just
wanted to show you that
someone else out there is
just li—"
"I don't want to be like
someone else," Plankton says,
his voice muffled by the pillow.
"I just want to be me." Chip
swallows hard, his eyes
prickling with tears. "But Dad,"
he says, "you are like
someone else. You're like my
new friend. His name's Timmy, an-"
"I don't know or care WHO
Timmy is," Plankton cuts
in, his voice sharp. "I'm
Plankton." He rolls over to
face them, his eye red. "I'm
not a kid playing pretend.
I'm a grown man trying to
navigate a world that's
always two steps ahead of me."
Chip feels his heart crack.
He'd never thought of it that
way. "But what if you could
see it as a strength?" He asks,
his voice hopeful. "What if
instead of trying to keep
up, you could be the one
setting the p-"
"Setting the pace?" Plankton's
voice is bitter. "How can
I set the pace when I can't
even keep up?" His words
hang in the air, each one a
sharp reminder of his daily
battles. Chip feels his throat
constrict. "Dad, I'm sorry," he
says, his voice breaking. "I
just wanted to help, like, you
see my friend Tim-"
"I don't need to be compared
to a child's book! And what
does 'Timmy' have to do wi-"
"It's not just a book, Dad,"
Chip says, his voice firm. "It's
about understanding that
autism isn't a flaw or a joke,
it's just...part of who you are.
And Timmy, he's like a superhero
because he's found a way to
turn his challenge into strengths,
on account of he has autis–"
But Plankton cuts him off with a
sharp laugh. "A strength?"
He asks, his voice laced with
sarcasm. "What strength? My
inability to not get overwhelmed
by sounds and lights? My
inability to read people's
faces?" He sits up, his
frustration palpable. "Don't
you get it, Chip? This isn't
something I can just 'turn
on' or 'turn off'. It's my
reality, my every day. And
Timmy...Timmy might be fine
with playing games about his,
but I'm NOT." His voice is
heavy with pain.
Chip's heart feels like it's in
his throat. He's never seen
his dad like this, so raw
and exposed. He opens his
mouth to speak but nothing
comes out. Plankton's words
hang in the air like a
challenge, demanding to be
heard.
"Dad," he finally says, his
voice trembling. "I'm sorry if
I made it seem like a joke. I
just...I just wanted to show
you that you're not alone."
He holds up the book, his
hands shaking. "Timmy's not
alone either. And neither are
you." He takes a deep breath.
"Maybe we could find our
own way to make your
autism feel like a su—"
But Plankton's had enough.
He stands, his small frame
trembling with frustration.
"I don't need your pity,
Chip," he says, his voice
sharp. "I need you to
understand that this isn't
some game. This is my life!"
With a sudden burst of
strength, Plankton snatches
the book from Chip's
hands. Chip's eyes
widen in shock, watching
his dad's anger manifest
physically as he tears the
pages one by one. "This is not
who I am!" Plankton says,
his voice shaking with each
ripping sound. "I'm not a
character for you to relate
to or feel good about!" Karen
stands there, frozen, her hand
covering her mouth in shock as
Plankton throws the book
across the room.
The silence that
follows is deafening. Chip's
screen is wet with tears,
his chest tight. He's never
seen his dad this way before—
so raw and so hurt. He
swallows hard, trying to find
the right words. "Dad, I--"
But Plankton holds up
his hand. "Just...just go,"
he says, his voice hoarse.
Chip picks up the torn book
on his way out.