My parents arrive, dressed in melon orange shirts, and brown pants.
My dad complains about the state of the news, and how much time on the news is devoted to entertainment.
My mom demands I don’t speak until she gets back from the bathroom.
My dad demands the Butcher clean up the dog’s food.
Now we’re going someplace, I don’t know where.
"Is she telling unknown people stories that are none of their damn business?"
Yes, yes, I am.