AN- Hello, just before I get started with the story, Butter's may appear to be out of character. I have done this because he is older in this story and (as some episodes have shown) he can get angry over things that don't really matter. I have just taken this further.
"Dad where are you?"
"I'm up here Butters. Up here on the roof."
Butters zipped his jacket up to the collar and trudged round the corner of the house, his boots crunching on the ice-hard snow.
"Up here, Butters."
"I see you," Butters called, shielding his eyes with one mittened hand as he peered up at his dad on the snow-covered roof. Long, pointed icicles hung in a row from the gutter, dripping onto the snow below.
"Hold the ladder for me, will you? I patched up the leak. Now I'm coming down," his dad said, his face red from the cold. On his hands and knees, in his ancient coat.
Butters slipped, lost his footing, and fell onto his knees.
"Hurry up,will you?" he snapped, impatient as always.
"I'm coming. I'm coming," Butters muttered, picking herself up slowly, brushing the snow off the knees of his jeans.
"I'm freezing to death up here," Mr. Stotch complained. "Why are you always in slow motion?"
Butters gripped the sides of the aluminium ladder. A strong gust of wind nearly blew him and the ladder over. He leaned forward against the wind, repositioning himslef for a better grip.
"Hold it steady!" Mr. Stotch screamed. "I told you- I'm freezing to death!"
"What a good idea," Butters said, watching his dad on his hands and knees, struggling to back over the snow-filled gutter onto the ladder.
"What did you say?"
Butters didn't reply. He wrapped his mittened hands tightly around the sides of the metal ladder.
"I heard that," his dad shouted. Only his boots and the back of his coat were visible to him. "You will be grounded for that remark, Butters."
"I wasn't a remark. I meant it," Butters said, peering up at him into the silver afternoon sunlight.
As he cautiously lowered one boot onto the top rung of the ladder, he pulled with all his strength.
The ladder tilted away from the house. Butters let go and moved quickly out of the way. The ladder fell onto the snow with a loud crunch.
His dad scrambled back up onto the roof, his black-gloved hands scrambling frantically over the snow-covered shingles.
"Hey! Are you crazy?" he screamed, sitting down on the snow, turning to face him, his face red with fury. He swore at him and called him his usual string of ugly names. "Put that laddr back up!"
"'Bye dad," Butters called calmly. He gave him a little wave with his red-mittened hand and started to walk down the driveway to the street.
"Get back here! Where are you going?"
He kept walking. He didn't look back.
"Put that ladder back- now!" Another string of abusive names.
You ahve such a foul mouth dad, Butters thought, turning right at the street and heading up the hill. Maybe you'll freeze with your mouth wie open, I'd like to see that.
"I'll freeze to death up here!" he shouted, his voice muffled now by the snow ladden trees.
"That's the idea!" Butters called without turning back.