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Now we just need a giant bowling ball.
Hey there, junior, good to see that you’re home! How did school go today? Yeah, it was pretty much a typical day at the office for me too. Say, what’s that black suitcase you’re carrying? It’s probably filled up with love notes from all the girls at school that want to go out with you, huh? Ha ha ha. Ya little stud! Just kiddin’ around, Champ. So, seriously, what’s in the suitcase?
Really? You joined a band? I mean, I agree it’s a way to get chicks and all, but between that and football practice… you’re just going to be swamped.
What’s that? You quit football? You just up and quit? Why? What’s up with this band you’re joining? It’s not like you guys are going to be successful, or average, or even tolerable.
What’s that? I misheard you. You joined THE band? Like, the band at school? The marching band? The ones that dress like Michael Jackson? You fucking stopped playing football to play the trumpet? What is your fucking deal? Are you mad at me?
Huh? It’s not the trumpet? Well, what the fuck is it then?
You chose the clarinet to be your instrument? Jesus Christ in heaven with sunglasses on. Were they all out of dildos? You have lost your motherfucking mind. So I guess that you are totally cool with being a virgin. Awesome. You’re going to get really bored locking yourself in the bathroom every night. Don’t even begin to think that you are stealing my shit anymore either. I already warned you once about masturbating to my Playboys. If I see that shit again, I’ll tie your dick in a knot and pour water down your throat until you pop.
What are your friends saying about all of this? I know what they will be saying to you.
“Hey, isn’t it hilarious that I just kicked you in the nuts and spit on you? Now give me your lunch money and bark like a dog. Pussy.”
What’s that, Junior? The band people have their own social group? Have you ever really checked those broads out? I have seen better-looking girls on National Geographic shows about Third World countries. A fly-covered, bald-headed chick with a hula hoop shoved into her lip could move to this town and be the prettiest band girl. I want to drop kick you so bad right now.
That’s it. I’ve had it, asswipe. Go out to the garage and open that chest in the far corner. Yeah, the one I have always told you to stay away from. I painted the skull and crossbones on it when you were eight.
I always said, “Junior, I hope you never make me open this chest.”
Well, you clarinet puffin’ son-of-a-bitch, you have gone and done it. Here’s the key, open that fucker up. Pop that lid open. I really never thought this day would come.
Stop looking all surprised, Drama Queen. What do you think? Haven’t you ever seen a pair of swords before? A pair of real swords? A pair of real swords modeled after He-man’s “I HAVE THE POWER” sword?
Pretty cool, huh? They have the coolest fucking shit on e-Bay. Pick the one you like the best. Oh, no, you have it all wrong. Don’t tell me thank you, Junior. I’m not giving it to you. The only thing I’m giving you is the motherfucking battle of your lifetime. We are going to have a sword fight.
I know you probably think that this is extreme, but you chose this path. You made me do this. This was always my Plan B. You forced my hand, damn it. Stop crying. Now, help me with the ladder, we need to get up on the roof. This driveway is too narrow for sword fighting.
Damn it, Son, be careful with that sword. You almost cut yourself. Don’t you know how to hold a sword? Oh yeah, you were always playing house with your sister when "He-Man" was on. Fuck, you’ve been making bad decisions for a long-ass time. Maybe if you took a break from the Easy Bake Oven, you would know how to throw down like He-man.
Oh yeah, since we’ve already spent most of this afternoon revealing life-altering decisions, what’s one more? I have a little something to admit as well. You know all those nights when I told you that I was going to meetings with your mom for counseling to get back together? Well, I was bending the truth a little about all of that. I was actually going to sword practice. Mom and I gave up on our marriage three years ago. Instead of reading self-help books, I’ve been learning how to chop people in half and throw ninja stars.
Father and son sword fights are socially acceptable.
Wow, it doesn’t feel good to hear things that you don’t want to hear, does it? Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to wear a fuzzy hat instead of a helmet. Dick.
Okay, get up there on the roof. Wait, do you hear that? No fucking way. Sirens again? Motherfucker. Why can’t these goddamned neighbors mind their own business? You must have eaten your Lucky Charms for breakfast this morning. I bet you shit four-leaf clovers. Hurry up, Junior, go put the He-Man swords back in the chest. Throw some blankets on top of the chest too. Oh, you dropped something. I’ll get it, just keep moving. Hurry the fuck up.
Hey, why are you carrying around lyrics to the high school musical?
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