Patrolling the streets of Nice, France, Europe.
Dad is depressed and Mom thinks he should DO something to snap himself out of it. Last night, Dad went to bed before the rest of us and sat in the dark.
Mom: "What's wrong now?"
Dad: "Nothing...I'm out of it, that's all. I'm tired. I've lost hundreds of thousands of dollars, I'm not working and all I'm doing is buying more towels and sheets...in France."
Mom: "Well why don't you DO something? You've been talking about getting a bike for months. Why don't you just buy the bike and go for ride? Take MY bike. Work out, join the gym! You could bleach your teeth, you've been talking about bleaching your teeth for years."
Dad: "I'm too depressed to bleach my teeth."
Mom: "Why? You've brought the tooth bleaching kit everywhere for two years now and you never do it. It's always in the suitcase for nothing. Bleach them now."
Dad:" It's too depressing. I have to wear glasses to see to put the droplets of bleach gel in the tooth tray. Might as well be sitting here in my truss with glasses on. Like Ben Franklin trying to get Brad Pitt's teeth. If I bleach my teeth it'll just be scary. It'll be like Wink Martindale's teeth superimposed into Golum's mouth. I'm not bleaching my teeth."
Mom:"What's a truss?"
Dad: "Look it up."
Mom: "We don't have an English dictionary in France."
Dad: "It's a thing to hold up your herniated ball."
Poor Dad. I think I'd better pretend I need a walk. Then I'll drag him four blocks to the beach. He'll feel better in the salt air of Nice, France, Europe. We can pee in the sea together and mark the Mediterranean.