[Fred is in John's apartment, trying to get his son to talk to him and going about it as if it were a sales pitch]
[annoyed] Cut the crap, will you!? I'm not a customer; I'm your son! I don't wanna joke, I don't want a pen! Every few years, you show up and we do this ridiculous little dance! You wanna talk to me, talk to me!
What do you want to talk about?
No, no, no, no! This time, we're really gonna talk!...I was eleven years old. Why'd you leave?
[solemn] Ok, Johnny. Here it is; your mother and I were completely wrong for each other. All we ever did was argue. It got to the place where I took any kind of a job, just to get out of town. Your mother finally got fed up and...told me to keep going.
I didn't ask you to leave! I didn't argue with you, why didn't you at least come back and see me!?
Because your mother asked me not to. [John looks stunned] You didn't know that, did you? And yes, I could've insisted I have a bigger part in your life, but I didn't. I took the easy way out and I regret it.
[shocked] She asked you to---?
Don't blame her; she was afraid I'd be a bad influence on you. [chuckles] Back in those days, she wasn't entirely wrong. I was...[pause] I took time to look in on you now and again; I saw one of your high school basketball games and...I was there when you graduated from med school.
I know. I saw you. What was with the lime-green leisure suit?
It was the 70's! Give me a break!
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