Two nights ago, my life’s ambition was reached.
INT. – MY PARENTS’ HOUSEHOLD, EVENING.
A FAMILY sits at at the FAMILY DINNER TABLE, enjoying a MEAL TOGETHER. DAVID (60, scrappy but a bit laid up due to a very recent hip replacement) sits diagonally from SHARON (59, perpetually distracted by any number of understandable factors), who sits across from REBECCA (in the final throes of 28, a bit losery, "visiting" protractedly, slightly mentally unstable). They eat GRILLED SALMON Sharon has cooked.
Well, I think I’ve managed to steal, rummage up or inherit just about every piece of furniture I could possibly need for my sweet graduate school apartment I will be moving into in two weeks and thusly not living with you guys anymore.
Sharon smiles accomodatingly. David stuffs his face with salmon.
Yep…pretty much all I need now is a dickfer.
David rolls his eyes.
Rebecca erupts into an eight-year-old-style giggle fit.
Rebecca covers her mouth.
What did you say you needed?
David relents and comes to his inept daughter’s resuce.
What’s a dickfer?
…now I can die fulfilled.