Come on in, son, have a seat.
Listen, I know you’re all grown up now and have a family of your own, but that doesn’t mean you still can’t have a talk with your old man. As you know, it’s been a few months since your mother passed, and well, I’ve met somebody. Have you ever been on the Internet? Who am I kidding? You kids practically live on the damn thing. Like right now, put that phone away. I’m trying to have a moment here. Now, are you familiar with Courtney Stodden? You are? Why are you shaking your head like that? She’s a nice, sweet gal who’s helping your old man through a tough- don’t you take that tone with- no, I’ve never seen The Green Mile. Or Lost. Jesus, how much television does your generation watch? Get to the point. — Child bride? She’s a 45-year-old woman for crying out loud. — 18?! Are you smoking pot again? So help me if you’re smoking pot, I will put you in that rehab, mister. You have kids for chrissakes! Oh, so now you’re leaving. Fine. Who needs a crybaby son when I’ve got a pair of sweet tits waiting for me? That’s right, you heard me. Your old man loves tits! Think about that while you’re trying to get it up in that prison cell you call a marriage. I told your mother giving you my name was a mistake, but no, “Fred Willard Jr. sounds just swell, honey.” I should’ve left for smokes and never came back. Get outta my kitchen.