“Riley!” Dad barks in my ear just as Mom gasps. “That is not true! Who do you think does all the dishes and the laundry?” she defends. “I’m kidding,” I concede. “He said he wanted to take you out for dinner.” “God damn it, Riley!” Dad yells. “This is the first time I’ve taken a shit in peace after work in thirty years and gotten to watch a game by myself.” “What’s that, Dad? Reservations?”
