Your dad works for my dad at the cheese curd factory
Your dad works for my dad at the cheese curd factory.
My dad made 10 million dollars last year and pays your dad $30,000 annually because my dad knows your dad has priors and can't do any better.
My dad pours himself a highball and drives his yellow Bentley home every day at 3 while your dad stays on the floor til the late evening making sure the curds come out right.
If my dad gets caught driving intoxicated, the cops just let him go because he's the big cheese in town - our city's economy is primarily dairy-based and my dad is like a god.
Your dad had his license taken away when he was pulled over for a broken taillight and they noticed he had fuzzy dice hanging from his rearview mirror. He had to ride his bike to work for a year.
Your dad thinks he needs my dad's money so he can buy you Yeezys or you'll hate him forever.
My dad doesn't think my post-EDM witch house beats are cool - and I tried to show him like 5 times, he doesn't even feign interest anymore. He just asks me where I see this "going" and I don't know the answer.
Your dad wrote your mom bad poems on napkins when she was a server at Applebee's and he was working the grill. She rolled her eyes in the parking lot when he played her "Drive" by Incubus on his acoustic guitar. She didn't enjoy it but inwardly appreciated that someone was willing to do something that corny for her.
My dad bought my mom a chinchilla fur coat, a Mini Cooper, and a condo in one of his buildings and she did the math. Sometimes she tells me my beats are improving. She's got a lot on her mind.
Your dad got colon cancer from eating too many hot dogs.
My dad thinks that's funny.
Your dad cries when he's alone sometimes. You caught him once and he said a bee stung his cornea but you didn't believe him.
My dad settled a sexual harassment suit out of court for an undisclosed sum. It was $450,000. My mom told me once when they were fighting. The connection here is hot dogs.
You are so good at the violin, I really don't get it. I saw you carrying your case in middle school and called you a pussy. I got everyone else to call you a pussy too. You thought about transferring but your parents wouldn't let you because they were already spending more than they could afford to send you to private school.
I believe life is a sequence of consecutive battles for power and I refuse to lose a single one of them. I will die when I'm 33 when a hooker steals my wallet and stabs me with my butterfly knife in the ensuing struggle.
You will also get colon cancer from eating too many hotdogs, but not until you're 72.
I was always jealous of how well you could play.
I heard you play some crazy shit at the fall assembly. I cornered you afterward and asked you what it was called. You said it was Concerto No. 1 in A minor by Dmitri Shostakovich. I found it on youtube and played it on repeat for 2 hours and it made me hate you so much.
I don't regret how things went. If I could do it all again, I wouldn't change a thing. I'd pretend to be your friend so I could take you to a baseball game and buy you as many hot dogs as you could eat.
I will never change.
You just have to move past me.
We will do battle Super Smash Brothers style on top of a volcano on Venus in 150 million years, you will rip my heart out of my chest, and even as I topple backward into the cavern, I still won't understand. The sulfuric acid pours into my suit, vaporizing my skin and bones and I still don't get it.
I don't have to.
But you do.
