You promised
I didn’t say anything when you and mom got divorced, did I?
Brian, we’ve been over this.
And last summer, for my birthday, when you didn’t get me a Jet Ski, did I say anything? Even a little bit?
No, you didn’t, but that’s hardly the point.
I don’t feel like I’ve asked for a whole hell of a lot, Dad.
No, that’s probably true, but…
And when I woke up this morning, and heard the word pancakes, well, I almost killed myself getting downstairs. Because I thought just maybe, you know? Just maybe.
I definitely didn’t say pancakes at any point this morning.
Even though I didn’t smell any pancakes…
This is embarrassing for both of us, Brian.
And even though I can’t remember the last time you cooked for me…
Son, please…
And even though, well (begins sobbing uncontrollably)…
Goddamnit, Brian. We’ve been through this. I cannot cook without arms, okay? I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t!
But, but…
You’re thirty-seven years old, son! If you want some damned pancakes, cook them yourself!
But…
And while you’re at it, why don’t you get a job?
But…
And move out of my attic!
