Chapter 1: The Villain Dad Awakens

After realizing I’d landed in the shoes of the infamous bad dad, I couldn’t keep up the act any longer—my real self just crashed through, no warning.

For a second, it was like watching one of those old sitcoms, except the laugh track was all in my head and nobody else seemed to get the joke. My heart did a weird flip, the kind you get when you realize you’ve locked your keys in the car right before a blizzard. My palms went sweaty, and for a second, I could almost taste panic on my tongue.

I barely had time to grab my sneakers before I was herded into a minivan with tinted windows and a camera in my face, dragged onto a parenting reality show where my supposedly well-behaved son kept getting into brawls with the Hollywood Queen’s little terror.

Cameras everywhere, boom mics overhead, and a couple of stressed-out PAs tiptoeing around like they were handling dynamite instead of juice boxes. Every time the kids screeched, you could practically hear a producer somewhere calculating next week’s ratings spike.

People online roasted my son for having no manners—Reddit threads, Twitter threads, even my cousin’s Facebook group got in on the action. They roasted me for being a useless dad and accused me of joining the show just to flirt with the Hollywood Queen.

It was open season in the comments section—like I’d crashed a small-town potluck where everyone brought a casserole and a grudge. My phone blew up with notifications so fast, the battery didn’t stand a chance.

I marched right up and gave the Hollywood Queen’s son a swat on the butt: “You think it’s okay to hit? Want me to give you a buzz cut right here? Go park yourself in the corner and think about what you did, champ.”

My hand shook, just a little, as I stepped back. The kid’s eyes went wide, and for a second, I caught my own reflection in the glass—equal parts regret and relief. I’m pretty sure somewhere, a legal intern’s finger hovered over the CPS hotline, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I was channeling every dad at a Little League game who’s just seen his kid get beaned by a wild pitch.

The Twitch chat went wild: “Why does his scolding actually feel kinda satisfying?” Emojis flew by—popcorn, facepalms, a rain of crying-laughing faces.

A couple of snarky users started dropping GIFs of Gordon Ramsay yelling at idiot sandwiches, and suddenly the vibe was less cancel-culture, more cathartic.

In the middle of the night, the Hollywood Queen banged on my door: “Your oldest son refuses to sleep. What are you going to do about it? What, you only show up for one kid? Or is that too much parenting for you?”

She looked like she’d just walked off a movie set—perfect hair, even at 2 a.m., and an attitude that could turn nonfat milk sour. The hallway smelled like cold pizza and stress. Somewhere, a clock ticked too loud, counting down the seconds until one of us snapped.

Dragged out of bed, I snapped: “Can’t you calm him down yourself? You’re his mom—why are you asking me how to put your own son to bed? Am I your dad?”

I was so tired, I could barely keep my eyes open, but I still managed the most sarcastic eyebrow arch this side of Brooklyn. My pillow called out to me from behind the cracked door.

Live chat: [crash and burn]

Memes flew. Someone edited my face onto a dumpster fire. You’d think I was the one who’d invented bad parenting.

After the show aired, the supposed male lead—who should’ve been America’s next heartthrob—ended up losing all his hype.

Apparently, TikTok decided he was too bland, and even the fan accounts started posting reaction videos with sad trombone music.

Instead, a bunch of loaded bigshots showed up with their kids in tow, begging: “Mr. Carter, please, could you scold my brat, or better yet, give him a good talking-to…”

Suddenly, I was a walking dad meme—America’s Most Wanted Babysitter. My inbox overflowed with requests from everyone from hedge fund managers to a guy who said he was Dwayne Johnson’s distant cousin.

The Hollywood Queen’s face darkened: “My husband only takes care of me and my son. If anyone tries to encourage him to divorce and remarry, don’t blame me for sending my lawyer after you.”

There was a chill in the air, the kind you only get when a celebrity threatens legal action. Even the cameraman took a step back. Nobody wanted to be on the wrong side of Natalie Drew’s PR team.