No yelling, no accusations, no paranoia. Just us -- well, him mostly -- talking about his real estate holdings. Just two grown-ups talking. Eight days ago this son-of-a-bitch wanted to throw me out of the house because I didn't clean the bathroom and my room.
He may not just be moody. My Old Man may very well be crazy. And yet. ... This is something I secretly crave. Why can't my dad talk to me like this all the time?
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