The Apple Violently Falls Close To The Tree
(My dad and I both share a strange sense of humour, which mainly consists of us threatening each other with violence just for fun. On this occasion I’m sitting in my dad’s favourite armchair.)
Dad: *sees that I’ve stolen his chair, glares at me, and whistles*
Me: “I am not a dog.”
Dad: “Off the chair! There’s a good girl. Woof, woof.”
Me: “Woof. How are you going to make me?”
Dad: *gestures to his bottle of vodka* “See this glass bottle here?”
Mum: “Oi!”
Dad: “Anyway, will you go and check the kitchen? See if there’s any soda in?”
Me: “Do it yourself!”
Dad: “You’ll do as you’re told.”
Me: “Nah. Make me.”
Dad: “I’ll hit you with the bottle.”
Me: “I’ll hit you with the chair. Then I’ll knock your beer over.”
Mum: “No, you won’t. You’ll have to clean it up!”
Me: “Maybe I’ll just pour it out of the window. Purposely.”
Dad: “Maybe I’ll stamp on your head. Purposely.”
(My mum just sits there looking gradually more and more horrified.)
