“I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I'm...”
“Son...”
“Oh god.”
“Where are you going, son...”
“Wake up.”
“Don't you want dinner, son...”
“No, no, no, no...”
“Don't you want to cash in this
winning lottery ticket, son...”
“...no, what?”
“I think all the numbers are right,
son... My eyes aren't what they used to be, son, could you double
check...”
“Let me see. I could run down to the
gas sta – this ticket is from six years ago.”
“Don't you want pudding after dinner,
son...”
“I hate this phase.”
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