I'm not saying you should, I'm saying, here's how you do it, if you want to. I'm sure you have your reasons.
Maybe when you were five, he didn't get you EXACTLY what you'd shouted for through a sticky, candy-filled mouth.
Maybe when you were six he got up for a smoke break just as you'd reached the front of his line at the mall then proceeded to get into a screaming match with someone named "Donna" who yelled "I can't keep doing this, Greg!" and then never returned even though you waited like forever.
Maybe you grew up pour, as some sort of inanimate liquid, sent gushing forth from the lip of a pitcher, and thus have no concept of Christmas, or poor, because your dad was an addle-brained simpleton who couldn't hold down a job.
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