Words Inspire. Words Misfire. Words Can Mire.

"Why do you do that?"

"Why do I do what?"

"You steal my peace and drain me of all self-respect."

"When? What are you talking about?"

"Just now."

"I'm just sitting here reading the paper.  I don't follow."

"Do you deny what you just called me?"

"I didn't call you anything."

"I just spilled out my guts to you, told you how guilty I felt about what I did, and then you just pass judgement on me.  What kind of father are you?"

"You were saying something?"

"Weren't you listening to anything I said?"

"I'm sorry, son, I must have missed it."

"Everything?  About Jamie and the note she passed me?"

"I guess so."

"What? I told you how she wrote me this love poem and gave it to me in European History and it totally made me blush.  I'd never felt anything like that before.  It was sweet and powerful and it really affected me."

"Wow! That's great!"

"No, it's not.  Mr. Joyce caught me reading it and forced me to read it out to the class, and everybody laughed at me.  I was so embarrassed and terrified.  I didn't know what to do so I just said, 'Shit, man, I ain't got nothin for Jamie, she just a ho to me.'"

"Now, son, that's no way to treat a lady.  Did you apologize to her later?"

"No.  I couldn't.  She left class crying and went home early."

"Well, you'll have to man up and do the right thing.  I didn't raise you to do things like that."

"Then why did you call me a piece of garbage?"

"What?"

"You said, 'You're just a piece of garbage.'"

"No, I said, 'You must take out the garbage.'"

"Oh."