I was looking at a picture once when I turned and said to my son, “Hey little buddy! What do you think of this?”

“I’m not gonna say it.”, he muttered.

“Not gonna say what little buddy?”, I asked.

“You know what.”, he answered.

I asked again, “No. I don’t know little buddy. What?”

He sighed, rolled his eyes and growled, “I’m not gonna call you Skipper.”

“Like hell you won’t!”, I yelled and hit him with my hat.

“Nobody even references that stupid sitcom anymore!”, he shouted at me and turned to walk away.

I grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and screamed, “You little son of a bitch! It was not a sitcom! It was a documentary!”

He looked me straight in the eye and said, in a voice dripping with venom, “No, it was a sitcom and, if you want my honest opinion, the Skipper and Gilligan were queer for each other.”

I grabbed him around the throat with both hands and began choking him.

“How dare you!!!”, I bellowed. “The Skipper was a great man and the Captain of the Minnow!!!”

“If the Skipper was so great”, he gurgled, “why did they end up shipwrecked?”

I shoved him into a Chef Boy-Ar-Dee display, sending cans of shitty pasta rolling everywhere.

They hate me at Wal-Mart.