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.)