Dadfleck tells me he has scored box tickets to the Flyers game tomorrow. Many were purchased by his boss for clients, and the last remaining ticket was given to Dadfleck as they are good friends. Dadfleck's boss and I share the same first name. The irony is permeable.
My envy seethes from spaghetti-stuffed mouth.
"Free parking, too."
"Dad, you bastard."
He is torturing me. This is water-boarding. I would want nothing more than to watch some bullies curb-stomp some senators. Dadfleck is aware and continues:
"Just gonna relax and schmooze the clients and have some beer and chow down and lounge with the Flyers at my fingertips. Doesn't that sound just perfect, Whofleck?"
Kill Dadfleck. Acquire tickets.
"You are the devil, Dad."
"No no, son. We don't play them until Saturday."
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